


Bite the Bullet

by NyxEtoile, OlivesAwl



Series: Have Gun - Will Travel [3]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Western, Childbirth, F/M, Mental Health Issues, Past Child Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Widowed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-25
Updated: 2020-01-25
Packaged: 2021-01-03 05:42:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 34,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21174371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NyxEtoile/pseuds/NyxEtoile, https://archiveofourown.org/users/OlivesAwl/pseuds/OlivesAwl
Summary: A Man with a PastBruce Banner had never expected to end up in a small Kansas cattle town. Once a respected East Coast doctor, the War had stirred up demons he could no longer control. Running from them had led him to Triskelion, and a group of misfits willing to give a second chance to a scarred man.A Woman Looking for a FutureWidowed with two children, Violet Marsh leaves Philadelphia for a teaching job in Kansas. Triskelion is an odd place, but with a precocious daughter and a "different" son, she finds acceptance where she can. And the handsome doctor her daughter brings home for dinner certainly helps.Together they'll need to confront the past, survive the present, and look for the future. Sometimes learning to love and trust again means you'll have toBITE THE BULLET





	1. The Last Stagecoach West

**Author's Note:**

> I think a couple of you guessed this would be the next thing published. Yes, we FINALLY finished our third western, this time focusing on Bruce and Violet.
> 
> Please check out the tags, this story contains mentions/descriptions of past abuse, as well as current PTSD issues and childbirth.
> 
> Title and chapter titles come from Western movies.

This had been a terrible idea.

The thought had been repeating in Violet's mind, over and over, for the last day and a half. Mostly it was the stage coach ride that convinced her. Her son had never been good with small places and no activity. She had been prepared for that. She had _not_ been prepared for the endless stream of questions coming from her daughter. 

Ada was a bright, precocious child. Normally, this made Violet very proud. But crammed in a coach in dirty clothes with a miserable, misbehaving three year old and several very annoyed strangers, all she wanted in the world was a daughter who could be seen and not heard. Just for a little while.

Arriving in town was such a relief. Even if Neil did almost get trampled and Ada asked a war veteran a very inappropriate question about his missing arm. At least they were out of the Godforsaken stage.

Now she was in a tavern. She had taken her two small children into a frontier drinking establishment that contained menacing looking cowboys playing cards in one corner, and a flock of scantily dressed woman in the other.

"Why are those ladies in their underwear?" Ada asked loudly.

This had been a _terrible_ idea.

A slightly more dressed woman appeared before them. "This is the west. We can dress however we like." It was said with a crooked smile, that Ada immediately returned. "You must be the new school teacher."

"Yes. Violet Marsh."

"Syn Odinson, I run the place. I bet you and the little ones are starving."

"Cheese!" Neil yelled in response. The cowboys all turned to look at them.

"A meal would be lovely, thank you," Violet told her.

"Have a seat, I'll bring out what we have."

Steering the kids away from the cowboys, they claimed a table and Violet held Neil in her lap to keep him from running off. He thankfully did not fight her. Ada rustled around in her bag and produced the book she was currently reading, plopping it on the table and delving in. When she was into something, artillery could be firing around her and she wouldn't notice.

The saloon was sparsely populated, aside from the gamblers and the prostitutes, of course. Mr. Rhodes and the friend he'd come to see—Mr. Stark, he'd told her—were at the far end of the bar, deep in conversation. He'd very kindly helped entertain Neil on the long journey, and ran around with him at stops because the little boy sprinted like a racehorse and was hard for Violet to catch sometimes.

She could never predict how people would react to Neil. Certainly the other stage passengers seemed to agree with the public sentiment she'd fled, based on the looks they gave. Mr. Rhodes had told her he had seven children himself, and kindly commented, "They all come out a little different, don't they?" 

Violet's mother would have been horrified her grandson had spent a portion of the trip sitting on the knee of a black man.

The saloon owner brought out two big plates full of bread, cheese, and smoked meat as well as two small apples. "Thank you," Violet said quietly, poking Ada with her foot so she would notice the food.

"No trouble," Syn said kindly. "You'll be teaching mine someday, maybe. We look out for each other around here."

Neil was straining for the cheese like a puppy on a leash so Violet broke off a piece and handed it to him. "Is my house ready, do you know? I'd like to settle in once we've eaten."

"Yes, everything has been set up as far as I know. I expect someone will be around soon, the whole town knows when the stage is in."

Violet let herself relax a little. Real beds. Four walls and a roof. Anything else was negotiable. The herculean trial was nearing its end. "Thank you," she said again.

Sure enough, but the time Neil had gotten through his cheese, a blond-haired giant of a man ambled into the saloon and made a beeline for her table. "Are you Mrs. Marsh?" he asked. "I am Thor Odinsson. My wife is who you have been corresponding with."

Ada had her head tipped back, eyes wide, speechless for the first time in years. 

"Hello, Mr. Odinsson," Violet said. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

"When you are ready, I can escort you to your house."

She glanced at their mostly empty plates and nodded. "Now, would be fine."

He bowed rather formally, and extended his arm. "Right this way."

Neil refused to be put down, so she hefted him onto her shoulder and nudged Ada to follow the big man out of the saloon. He fetched their trunks and loaded them into the wagon he had waiting, and then helped them up inside. "You're very tall," Ada told him as he pulled off.

"Indeed I am," he replied. "You are very small."

"I'm still growing," she informed him seriously.

The man had the same last name as the saloon keeper, and the postmaster she'd met getting off the stage. The two men had matching southern accents, the woman did not. None of them looked at all related. In fact most of the people she'd met so far had been named Odinsson. "Do you have a lot of family in town?" Violet asked him while she tried to arrange her cloak around Neil against the cold wind.

"Just my brother and our wives," he replied. "And I expect a child in early summer."

"Congratulations," she said. "So your brother is the postmaster and his wife owns the saloon."

"Yes. Well, half the saloon. She has a partner, Natasha Barton. Mrs. Barton is also expecting a baby, and has been having somewhat of a difficult time so isn't there much. But I expect you will meet her eventually."

"I met the Sheriff briefly on my way in. And I rode with Mr. Stark's friend. I take it everyone knows everyone in town?"

"It is a rather small town."

She supposed that could be good or bad. Not that she had many secrets, but people being in her business were the reason she left the city.

The schoolhouse was on a small rise on the edge of town, with plenty of space around it that she imagined would be full of grass come spring, but was now patches of snow. It was two stories, with a small belfry and a widow's walk on the peak of the roof. Smoke billowed from the chimney. Mr. Odinsson pulled the wagon to a stop and hopped down, then turned to help them all out.

Ada slipped her hand into Violet's as Mr. Odinsson started to unload her bags. "Is this our new house?"

"It is," Violet said. "The downstairs is for teaching and upstairs is where we'll live. Maybe with spring coming we can start a garden." Not that she knew anything about growing plants, but clearly it was time to learn.

The door swung open and a small woman in a calico dress came out, grinning widely. "You made it!" She held out both her hands for Violet's. "I'm Jane Odinsson. Welcome." 

"Thank you." She shifted Neil to her hip and reached to take the other woman's hand. "It's nice to meet you in person."

"Come in, come in, it's freezing out here." 

All of them went inside. The first floor was indeed the school room, with a kitchen tacked onto the back. Her private rooms were upstairs. They made small talk about the journey and the weather while Jane showed her around. It was small, having originally been built for a single person. But it was well furnished, warm and cozy.

"Mama where am I going to sleep?" Ada asked when they had seen everything.

"We'll share for now and see about getting you your own bed soon." Neil had spent just about every night in Violet's bed since her husband had died, she doubted he would stop now. "Perhaps we can screen off some of the sitting room to be your own space."

"I believe we could build on in the spring," Jane said while her husband hauled their luggage up. "Thor is a carpenter, he and his business partner think it shouldn't be too difficult. There is a bit of a baby boom coming, so a larger schoolroom will be needed eventually as well, so it makes sense."

"There were are then." She rubbed Ada's back briskly. "In a few months you'll have your own brand new room."

"There's also a trundle under the bed," Thor said from the doorway. "There wasn't really space for a second bed, but it pulls out so one or both of the children can sleep down there."

"That will work just perfectly. Thank you both for the welcome."

"I hauled up wood for you, someone will come by every day to refill your stack," he said.

"And we've filled the pantry," Jane added. "Ladies all over town contributed canned goods, plus sacks of flour, beans, and potatoes, and someone will come by in the morning with meat and milk."

Violet swallowed the lump in her throat. She knew it was their form of payment and not specifically kindness to a new comer. Still, the thought of not having to worry about food or shelter or firewood for the foreseeable future was. . . blissful. "Thank you," she said again, for lack of anything better.

"Welcome to Triskelion. We'll leave you to get settled," he said. "Yell if you need anything, someone will hear you." They both smiled at her, and they were gone.

With no more strangers to keep him in line, Neil immediately started trying to peel his shoes and shirt off. Sighing, Violet helped him become barefoot and chested. "Pants stay on," she insisted as he ran off to explore the house.

Ada watching him streak around with an exasperated expression. "Shall we unpack a bit?" Violet asked her.

*

A small Kansas cow town had not been where Bruce Banner had expected to end up. In the last days of the War, the future had yawned before him like dark abyss. He couldn't go back to his life, that had become apparent, as the condition that had plagued him since childhood had grown into something he couldn't manage. He was fairly certain it would end him up in jail, or an asylum—an experience he'd had once and had no intention of ever repeating—or dead. At some point he settled on the latter as being most preferable, but his own insanity, the other _thing_ that lived in his head, had stopped him from actually finishing his final act. He had no memory of the rampage, only of waking up chained in a tent listening to the voices of panicked officers discussing his fate.

He was alive, and walking around outside, because his nurse was a crafty and determined and fiercely loyal. She was also pretty good at picking locks.

Their flight had led them here, quite by accident, and suddenly he had a second chance at life. Instead of chopping off limbs, now he mostly delivered babies and tended every day illnesses. 

"Do I have smallpox?"

Bruce turned in surprise to find the source of the small voice that had asked the question. Sure enough, there was a little blonde girl he'd never seen before in a straw bonnet standing in the doorway to his infirmary. "I'm sorry?"

"You're the doctor, aren't you?" She held out her arm, which had a red rash on it. "I think it's smallpox. I'll have to be quarantined. "

He crouched down to look at her arm. "I believe that is poison oak."

She frowned, first at him, then the rash. "You're quite certain? Small pox is extremely dangerous."

He reached out and felt her forehead, mostly for show. "No fever. That cinches it. I am very certain, I promise. If you come in, I can put something on it that will make it stop itching."

That seemed to please her. She took two steps forward then stopped. "I'm not disturbing you, am I? Mama says to make sure I'm not disturbing people when I ask them questions."

"No. I am the doctor, treating patients is what I do." He gestured to the exam table. "Hop up."

She did so, clambering up onto the smooth wood table. Holding her arm out she stoically waited for his treatment.

"I'm Dr. Banner," he told her as he spread balm on the rash. "What's your name?"

"Ada Elizabeth Marsh. My mama is the new school teacher. We came on the stage coach."

Ah, yes. He'd heard the new schoolteacher was a widow with young children. A little unconventional, but then that was Triskelion. "Welcome to town, young lady."

"Thank you," she replied politely. "Everyone has been very welcoming. Mr. Odinsson and Mr. Barnes have promised to expand our house so I can have my own room."

"That's very kind of them." He wrapped a bandage around her arm. "Where did you come from?"

"There's a big patch of empty land between the school house and the town. I was cataloging the different plants I found." The field had been the site of one of Pierce's early opponents. The man's house had mysteriously burned down and he and his family had hightailed it out of town. They'd pulled down the ruins of the house but no one had rebuilt, like it might be cursed. Bruce suspected it would get plowed up and built on if the town grew much more.

"Have you ever seen poison oak before?" As far as he knew, it didn't grow in the northeast. Her accent sounded distinctly New England.

Sure enough, she shook her head. "I've never seen this much open space before. Even the park Mama used to take me to had fences."

He lifted her down from the table. "Okay. We're going to the field so I can show you it so you won't touch it again."

"That sounds sensible." 

She put her hand in his, and for a moment he contemplated what it might have been like if his life had gone a different way. If he'd had a child of his own to tuck her tiny fingers around his. "I believe I have a book on Kansas botany," he told her. "I bought it to help identify poisonous things people might accidentally ingest."

She looked up at him with wide blue eyes. "May I borrow it?"

"It's very dense and scientific."

"That's all right. I read scientific books all the time. Grandfather used to let me read his economic books. Mama says I'm gifted," she added solemnly.

"You know, I believe that." He pointed out the door. "Field first, then I'll let you look at my medical books."

"Yes, sir." Holding his hand, they left the office and strolled towards the edge of town. He pointed out the poison oak to her, and to his surprise she produced a notebook and pencil from somewhere in her pinafore and made a quick sketch and labeled it. He'd thought she was exaggerating when she described herself as cataloging plants.

The sketch she produced was pretty impressive for someone who couldn't be more than six or seven. When she was done, she neatly labeled it and tucked the notebook away. "You're nice. You're not like the old doctors back home."

Odd thing for a child to say. "Did you see a lot of doctors?"

"Not me." She paused, as if it had occurred to her she might be speaking out of turn. When she spoke again it was more cautious. "They said mean things about my brother."

He was quiet a moment, curious but not wanting to spook her. "Is your brother ill?"

"No," she said fiercely. "And he's not an idiot or broken or anything else. He's exactly he way he's supposed to be."

_Oh._ He hunched down to her level. "Was he born that way?"

Her face was scrunched up suspiciously, but she answered, "Yes."

"Then that's how God made him," he replied. "How boring would the world be if everyone was made the same?"

She sniffled a little. "That's what Mama says. She said the doctors like easy answers and when someone doesn't fit their box they want to put them away so they can pretend they don't exist."

"Well, I'm not like that." He paused a moment, and she stared at him with her big eyes. "I'll tell you a secret so you'll believe me. Somebody put me in one of those places once. It was horrible. I wouldn't send the devil himself there."

"Are you made different, too?"

"In a way, yes." Well, he'd certainly been _made_, though God had nothing to do with it. But Ada didn't need to know that. "Sometimes people are damaged in ways you can see, like Mr. Barnes arm. But sometimes, you can't see it."

She seemed to process that a moment, studying him carefully. Then she nodded, as if coming to a decision. "Then I'll like you just as you are, too."

That made him smile. "What do you say we go look at those books?"

"Yes, please."


	2. The Wild Bunch

Soon Ada was happily sprawled on the floor in a pile of his medical books. She was going through Gray's Anatomy, peppering him with questions while he inventoried the medicine cabinet. He had no idea the personality of the new teacher. If she was uptight, she was probably going to march into his office mad as hell tomorrow morning once she realized he'd let her daughter leaf through a book full of anatomical drawings of the human body.

The sun was dipping low when she finally shut the book and clambered to her feet. "I'd better get home. Mama said to be home for supper."

His stomach rumbled. He hadn't actually eaten since breakfast. "I should find some supper myself. You're welcome to come look at the books anytime."

"Thank you." She hesitated a moment. "Do you want to walk me home? You can meet Mama and Neil."

Curiosity—always curiosity—got the better of him. Besides, it was possible she might get a little lost in the twilight. She might be nervous, and seemed the type that would never admit it. "I'm happy to walk you home."

She held his hand again as they walked down the dusty street. It was one of his favorite times of day, when lamps were being lit in darkened houses and the whole town seemed to be hushed and holding its breath.

There were lights on in the back of the schoolhouse and Ada led him around the building to the back door, which spilled into the kitchen. A little boy in pants and no shirt was sitting on the table, munching on a hunk of cheese. He was watching a pretty, petite blonde woman kneading dough. She was singing something, in a high, clear soprano.  
Ada released him and sprinted over to hug the woman, wrapping her arms around her waist. "Hi Mama."

Holding her flour coated hands up, Mrs. Marsh bent and kissed her daughter's head. "Hello there. Did you have a fun day? What happened to your arm?"

"Poison oak. Dr. Banner put something on it, it feels better." She gestured to him, still in the doorway and Mrs. Marsh turned to look, wide eyed.

"Hi," he said awkwardly, waving. Then he remembered his manners, and held out a hand to shake. Only she was covered in flour so couldn't actual do so. "Sorry. Hello. I'm the town doctor. She found my office. Thought she had smallpox."

That earned Ada an indulgent glance before Mrs. Marsh smiled at him. "Hello, it's nice to meet you. Thank you for patching her up."

"It's my job. But she was good company," he added. "Easily entertained by dry medical texts."

"Ah, some of her favorite things. I'd wondered what she'd found to entertain her all day."

"He's nice," Ada said. "Not like the doctors back home."

"Mama Sing!" the little boy demanded before either adult could say anything.

"I want Mama to sing please," she replied without missing a beat. The little boy fumbled his way through the sentence. As soon as he was done she started singing her song again. Bruce watched the boy abandon his cheese and begin putting handfuls of pebbles on the table. They were remarkably similar in size, shape, and color, and he began arranging them in precise lines.

Mrs. Marsh finished her kneading and dropped the dough by spoonfuls into the pot simmering over the fire. She finished her song as she washed the last of the dough off of her hands. "Dr. Banner would you like to join us for supper?" she asked.

He blinked in surprise. People didn't usually invite him to eat with them, other than his excessively trusting and stubborn friends. Which was actually a much larger group than it used to be. Of course, Mrs. Marsh didn't know him.

"You should eat with us," Ada told him. "Mama's making chicken and dumpling soup. It's the best."

She turned her earnest face on him, and he found himself saying, "That would be lovely, thank you."

Ada cheered, doing a little dance. "Go wash up," her mother said gently. The little girl scurried to the pump and Mrs. Marsh turned to her son. "No rocks on the table, Neil," she said, almost singing it. He grinned at her and watched her scoop his pebbles into a little box before she lifted him off the table and guided him over to the pump as well.

Suddenly he dug in his heels. "No. No wash."

"We wash before supper," she pressed.

"No wash!" That one had a tinge of hysteria to it.

Mrs. Marsh paused a moment, apparently deciding exactly where she was drawing her line in the sand. Tugging a dish rag out of her apron she said hopefully, "Wipe?"

Neil studied her a moment, then held his hands out expectantly. With a smile she began wiping the little boys hands off. Bruce glanced down at his own hands, which still bore faint scars of the one time as a child he'd refused to wash up for dinner. His father had poured boiling water on them as punishment. "You're very patient with him," he commented.

She looked up at him with a weary smile. "Neil needs a little extra attention sometimes. I've learned to pick my battles." She gave his hand one last scrub and grinned at her son. "There. All clean."

"All clean!" he echoed, spreading his fingers wide.

"Ada told me about the bad doctors. I can only imagine what was recommended." Locking him away actually would have been the choice of those with _kinder_ impulses. A signifiant percentage likely believed whatever was wrong enough could be beaten out of him with a big enough switch.

Mrs. Marsh had gone very still at the mention of doctors. Neil was oblivious, scurrying back to the table and tucking himself under it rather than sitting at it. "They recommended a lot of things," she said, watching him tuck himself between the sturdy wooden legs. "I didn't think any of them suited our needs."

"You look to be doing a pretty good job with him."

For a moment, she looked as if she might cry. She gave him a firm little nod and said, "Thank you," with a great deal of emotion. "I needed to hear that."

He smiled at her. "Compassion is usually more useful than violence, and solving the problem is universally better than being right."

She busied herself taking bowls out of a cabinet and checking the soup. "He's small and the world is very overwhelming to him. I do my best to make that easier. To break things down to his level so he can understand it. So far, it seems to help."

"Where did you used to live?"

"Philadelphia. My parents are still there."

"They have a really big house," Ada piped up. "But you can't touch anything in it."

Bruce could only imagine how stressful that house had been for Neil. Who was still happily sitting under the table with his box of pebbles. Mrs. Marsh brought bowls of soup over to the table, crouching to leave one next to the little boy, who gave her an adoring look before going back to his things.

Ada took Bruce's hand and tugged him over to a seat.

"They didn't really approve of me coming out west." A bowl of steaming soup was set before him and Mrs. Marsh sank into a chair next to him. "But things were becoming untenable there. It was a relief when Mrs. Odinsson contacted me."

"The space will probably be good for him. Pick a direction, walk a mile or two, and there's _nothing_. Just a sea of prairie. It's soothing." It was one of the most useful things Amanda got him doing to settle down.

"He never liked the city." She looked down and ruffled the boy's hair. "Days when we had to go out on the streets were the worse. I was turning him into a prisoner in the house, just to save us all grief. It wasn't fair to any of us."

They dug in to their dinner for a moment. She spooned her soup like Mrs. Stark did. Like a woman who had gone to finishing school. "This is delicious," he told her, because it was.

She smiled widely. "Thank you. I have a very limited repertoire, but this is one of my best."

"One of the ladies in town—Mrs. Stark, she'll probably come by and say hello—had a staff of servants before coming out west, and has had to learn just about everything. Her husband is a friend of mine, and he complains about the cooking a lot."

"My parents have a cook," she confessed. "I had her give me a crash course."

"I think that's one of the things that grows on you. The more you do it, the better you get."

"I hope so. I also hope once I meet more women I'll be able to gather more recipes."

"Syn Odinsson is probably the best cook in town. Her or Natasha Barton. Mrs. Hill makes the best pies."

"I have had one of Mrs. Hill's pies. She introduced herself a few days ago." She smiled at the memory. "Everyone has been very kind and welcoming."

"Its a unique place." He paused, glancing over at Ada and trying to decide how to tell the story in a kid friendly way. "There used to be a man who ran the town. Controlled everything and everyone through fear. Eventually we stood up and fought back. Things like that have a way of erasing petty differences." He sipped some more soup. "And weird is normal here. Neil will fit right in."

"Mrs. Syn says we missed all the excitement," Ada piped up.

"Sometimes excitement isn't all it's cracked up to be," her mother told her without missing a beat. She sipped her soup. "I'm waiting to get settled a bit more, but I'm hoping to have a fence put up so Neil can have a little freedom running around outside."

He looked up at her. "A fence?"

She gestured. "For the yard. He likes the outside, but he wanders and doesn't always respond to his name. I don't actually want him to make it a couple miles out into the prairie."

He nodded. "We'll get Thor and Barnes up here to build one."

"When they have time. I know there's a lot of people who need expansions on their houses."

Bruce sighed. "Yes. There is quite the baby boom coming. I'll be busy." 

She grinned. "And in a few years so will I." Neil tugged at her skirts and she reached down to stroke his hair idly. "No offense, but the doctor at my births was far less helpful than the cook who'd had three of her own."

He'd heard that a lot. "Probably. Your average country physician is a lot less useful in a birth than a midwife. And for 95% of births, all you need is a midwife." 

"Is there a midwife here? I know you have a nurse."

"Mrs. Barnes. She doesn't deliver babies, for reasons relating to experiences from the war. I do not know if having her own will change her mind about that."

"What about the five percent?" Ada asked.

He looked over at her. "I'm sorry?"

"The other five percent. You said 95% only need a midwife. What happens to the rest?"

For a panicked moment, he tried to think of a child friendly way of explaining when Mrs. Marsh leaned over and said, "Sometimes the baby gets stuck or the mama bleeds too much. Then the doctor has to help as best he can."

"Do they die?" she asked with huge eyes.

"Sometimes. Having babies is hard work and can be dangerous."

"When I first came to town, there was a lady here whose baby got stuck. Everybody thought she might die, but instead she had an operation and I took the baby out of her belly." A bland description for the single most terrifying thing he'd ever done. "They both are happy and alive today," he added. He was aware of Mrs. Marsh staring at him, the surprised scrutiny making him self-conscious. "I am not exactly a country physician."

"Evidently not." She looked a little pale. "Are you from the East?"

He nodded, hoping she didn't press for too much detail. None of that was worth conversation. "I was a surgeon of some note. Then the war happened and that was. . .that. After I came here."

The mention of the war was usually all people needed to hear. It was the same with her. She gave a sympathetic, understanding nod and sipped some of her soup. "This place seems to attract people who needed a second chance."

"That is more true than you know."

She smiled and glanced down at Neil. "We'll fit right in."

*

A snowstorm blew in the night before Violet's first day of school, with a speed and intensity you didn't see much in Philadelphia. Maybe it was all the open land. Thankfully they had plenty of wood, so she stoked the fire high and both children slept in the bed with her. The snow drifted high and she wondered how she'd dig out in the morning and if children would even come—only to wake and find several boys out there shoveling the path. 

The town's children began arriving not long after that. More came with parents than she'd have expected, but it may have just been the first day with a new teacher. People wanted to meet her.

She stood at the doorway in her most conservative, schoolmarm dress and greeted everyone. Ada had been given the very important job of finding out the children's names and writing their name tags for their desks. 

A woman came in with a veritable herd of little girls, all looking to be in the general vicinity of Ada's age. Ada abandoned her labeling and came sprinting over. Two of them began shoving each other, and their exasperated looking mother—who had a bundled up baby on her hip—deftly separated them. "Opposite sides of the room," she told them sternly. 

Jane had left her a list of notes on the children. One had been 'Don't let the Lang girls sit together, they're trouble'. So Violet asked, "Mrs. Lang?"

The woman laughed. "God, their reputation precedes me. They've promised me they'll stay away from the fire from now on." 

Violet made a mental note to find the girls "special projects" to keep them entertained. "Mrs. Odinsson mentioned they could be a handful," she admitted. "I'll make sure they don't think I'm an easy target."

"Everyone says girls are easier." The baby got ahold of a bit of her hair that escaped the bun and yanked. "Everyone says."

"Every child has their own challenges." She stroked Ada's hair. "I think the brawl is over. You can go back to helping."

She looked pretty suspicious, but slunk back over to her table. "Anything else I should know?" Violet asked Mrs. Lang. "Areas of concern?"

She sighed. "Do you know morse code?"

"I-"

"I do!" Ada called from her corner.

Violet gestured to her. "I have an interpreter."

"They'll tap the desk in Morse code to chat with each other. My husband is a telegrapher, he taught all of them. Don't give them ink. Don't let them near the fire. Don't let them convince you they're sick. Don't let them tell you I'm going to yell at you because you were mean to them. I won't. I'm mean to them all the time."

Mrs. Lang immediately went on Violet's list of allies. "Got it. I'll keep you informed of anything new that comes up."

"Thank you. Good luck." She looked towards her children. "Be good for Mrs. Marsh or I'm making you wash the dirty diapers," she told them. Then she smiled at Violet and made her way out.

Behind her she heard rhythmic tapping, and Ada giggling.

She sighed and Mrs. Lang gave her a sympathetic look as she left. She was going to need to think of new and inventive consequences, she could just tell.

Ada quickly fell in with the Lang girls, and they were thick as thieves. It turned out for the best, since she was smack in the middle of them and was somewhat of a calming influence. And she was happy Ada was making friends, as she'd been heartbroken to have to leave hers behind when they left Philadelphia.

The rest of the class was an assortment of ages and temperaments. Most were from ranch and farm families on the outskirts, so attendance was spotty. She singled out the ones most interested in learning, with dreams of something other than working the land, and sent them home with extra books and assignments to work on when they couldn't make it in.

It was more fun than she'd expected, as well as rewarding. There was nothing like the light in a child's eyes when they finally grasped a concept that had eluded them. Based on the smiles of both children and parents, as well as the apples and fresh eggs that occasionally appeared on her desk, she assumed the town was happy with her as well.

Ada was making friends all over town, both the children and the adults. She particularly loved looking at the stars with Jane, and learning to chart them. She came home one afternoon excited because Mr. Stark had shown her how to make steel. And she loved to go read Dr. Banner's medical books. Though it did provoke her to do things like discuss intestines at the dinner table, and announce to the entire general store scientific names for the parts of the female reproductive system.

Without missing a beat, Mrs. Hill had replied, "Ovaries are better than testicles. Don't let anyone tell you different."

This was probably one of those things Violet should discourage, but she couldn't say she disagreed. "Remind me to get the name of some of these books from the doctor. We can order you your own copies."

"The Anatomy book is my favorite. It has all the body parts. Though there's one that lists diseases, too. I like impetigo. It's a fun word to say."

"I've always been a fan of apoplexy," she offered, turning the Mrs. Hill. "Do any of your catalogs have anatomy books?"

"There's not a huge call for them out here. You might want to ask Doc for the name of the publisher, I can write them for a copy."

"I'll bring it up next time he comes for supper." Ada had taken to brining her new friends for meals as often as not.

Mrs. Hill arched an eyebrow. "You have him over for dinner?"

"Oh yes, several times now." She glanced through her basket to make sure she hadn't forgotten anything. "He's very complimentary of my food, bless him."

"I'm just surprised, with the children." She shrugged, and began tallying Violet's purchases. "Though he has been all right for quite a while lately." 

Violet looked up at her sharply. "What do you mean, all right? Is he sometimes not all right?"

"Well. Sometimes he's nuts. That'll be $3.24." 

Handing the money over automatically, she asked, "Nuts how?"

"He smashes things. Often the saloon, which seems to particularly anger the crazy side of him. Mrs. Barnes's job is half nurse, half minder."

"He told me he was in an asylum once," Ada said from beside her.

Violet looked down at her sharply. That actually explained some of the things he'd said about Neil. Taking a deep breath, she managed a smile for Mrs. Hill and gathered her purchases up. "Thank you. I'll let you know about the books."

"Anytime," she said, turning to the next customer.

They walked home in silence for a while. "Are you upset?" Ada asked finally.

"I'm a little surprised." Violet stopped and looked at her. "Has Dr. Banner ever been mean to you? Done anything to frighten you?"

She shook her head. "No. He's very nice. He doesn't yell like Mr. Stark, or scowl like Mr. Barnes."

Breathing a sigh of relief, she nodded and they started walking again. She honestly didn't know how to reconcile this new - admittedly vague - information with the man she had met. He had never seemed anything but kind and patient, with both of her children.

"Can I still go ask him about the book?" Ada asked after a moment.

"Yes," she said cautiously. "But I should probably talk to him about. . . this first."

"Okay," she said quietly, disappointed.

"I'm sorry, Ada. I know he's your friend. And hopefully nothing will change. But there's clearly more to him than I was aware and I need to get to the bottom of it."

When then got home, she stomped up the stairs loudly. She'd shut herself in the bedroom by the time Violet got up there. Thor was sitting on her sofa—which was ridiculously too small for him—with Neil asleep across his lap. He'd come over to clear ice and fix a leak in her roof, and offered to stay with Neil, who adored him, so he wouldn't run wild in the store.

"We built a castle in the snow, and then we laid siege," Thor told her. "I think he enjoyed that part best. I even managed to keep his mittens on for most of it."

"Thank you," she said, smiling. "You always manage to wear him out."

"If you have any other errands to run, I seem to be trapped."

Between them they could probably easily move Neil off. But Thor seemed to enjoy playing babysitter and Violet was never one to look a gift horse in the mouth. "There is one thing, if you're sure you're all right."

"I am quite content. I need the practice, you know." He patted Neil's head.

With that assurance, she headed back out and returned to town, this time to the doctor's office. He was sitting at his desk, making notes about something, and looked up when she came in the door. "Hello," he said, a smile spreading on his face.

The smile made her feel vaguely guilty. But she folded her hands in front of her and said, "I need to speak to you about something."

He studied her face, and his sigh was weary and a little sad. "Someone was going to tell you eventually." He gestured to the chairs in from of his desk. "Have a seat."

Sinking into his guest chair, she fiddled with her skirts a moment. "I doubt Mrs. Hill's description is clinically accurate."

"Clinically accurate isn't much of an endorsement. You know better than anyone the kinds of things doctors say.""True," she conceded. "But you aren't like most doctors."

He closed his notebook, then his inkwell, and began to fiddle with disassembling and cleaning his pen nib. "I have a condition. Sometimes I become someone else. It's rare, particularly lately. But it does happen, generally I'm hurt or seriously threatened. He's stronger than seems possible and likes to break things until. . . whatever triggered him is abated. I have no memory of it. Most people assume it's because of the war, but this long predates that."

That sounded far less dire than the things that had been swirling around her head. "Are you a danger to those who haven't hurt or threatened you?"

"Not usually. He will hurt people who he thinks are further threats. There have been several brawls with Thor. But he's never hurt Mrs. Barnes and she's gotten him into restraints. There was a pretty bad incident at the end of the war, but that was entirely my fault."

Violet had long ago learned not to hold otherwise good people at fault for what they had done in the war. "Were you going to tell me eventually?"

"Yes. I should have already. I just. . ." He finally looked up at her. "I liked your company."

That made her smile. "I enjoy your company, as well. And I would have preferred to hear this from your first and not as a bit of gossip at the general store." Gently, she added, "The rest of the town clearly accepts you. You know how I feel about doctors and how I am with Neil. You could have trusted me."

"I'm sorry," he told her.

She nodded and smoothed her skirt out. "All right. Ada's interested in getting some copies of your medical books. Could you put together a list of titles and publishers for her next time she visits?"

"I can order them for her," he replied. "I'd like to, actually." There was a pause, then he said, "He wouldn't ever hurt her. And even odds he'd kill anyone who tried to."

She had more or less come to that conclusion already, but the affirmation was nice. "I don't imagine she's particularly threatening. But I like anyone who would protect my children that way."

"He was born of a hurt and scared kid. There's not a lot about him I'm sure of, but that he is very protective of children is one of them."

Curiosity and concern gnawed at her but the trauma of his past were none of her business. She did reach over and lightly touch his knee. "I trust you. You would not put my children in danger."

He put his hand over hers and squeezed. "Thank you."

"You're very welcome. I expect to see you at dinner tomorrow."

"I would not miss it for the world."

"Excellent." She patted his knee and stood. "I hope you have a good day."

"It already is one."

Smiling, she nodded and let herself out of the office.


	3. Bitter Heritage

The snow melted and the days lengthened, the prairie springing up a riot of wildflowers and an ocean of grass. It was the quiet months before the cattle drives, and without Pierce it was the most peaceful spring the town had ever known. 

"You said spring. It's spring. And yet here I am." There was grumpy accusation in Natasha's voice that Bruce did his best to ignore, timing the baby's heartbeats on his watch. You couldn't hold a woman accountable for anything she said while that pregnant.

"You guessed when you conceived, I guessed when you were due," he said mildly. "Heartbeat's good. Head's down. Can't be too long." She was glaring at him. "If you kill me, you'll be on your own."

"Amanda could do it," she grumbled. Which was entirely true for a normal pregnancy. Natasha had reason to believe her reproductive organs were damaged from a previous pregnancy termination, however. So it was possible, if not likely, she would need interventions. She was aware of this, so he filed the muttering away with the rest of her grumpy pregnant woman talk and finished his exam.

Amanda wasn't fond of births because she hated the screaming, but he was pretty sure Natasha would stay silent through an unmedicated amputation. Besides, he thought that entire thing about childbirth being a punishment for original sin and women were meant to suffer was so much bullshit. He had morphine, and chloroform if it came to it. Agony shouldn't be a requirement for anything.

"See you in a couple of days," he told her as she walked very slowly to the door.

"Promises, promises." 

The door opened just as she reached it and he saw a glimpse of Amanda as she held it open for Natasha. The women exchanged a few words before his nurse came in, closing the door behind her. "Still grumpy?"

"She'd like to be done. I can't blame her." He paused, casting a critical eye over her. "How are you feeling?"

Amanda was only a month or two behind Natasha in the pregnancy game, likely due for labor just before the summer heat settled in. "I'm fine," she said, rubbing an idle hand on her belly. "Up half a pound and peeing every thirty minutes."

There was a veritable season of babies coming, sprawled out over the summer and, he expected, into the fall. There had been a cluster of weddings last fall. He was going to be busy. "Good, good."

She studied him as she got herself situated at her desk. "Something on your mind?"

"Always a million things," he replied.

"Anything you care to share?"

He fixed her with a look. "You know me entirely too well."

"Of course I do." She swung her legs up to prop her feet on the stack of crates arranged for that purpose. "Is it about the school teacher?"

"No. Yes. Maybe." He sighed. "Yes."

"She's fitting in very well," she said neutrally. "Her daughter and I had a spirited discussion about the future of women in medicine the other day."

"We've gotten to be friends, Mrs. Marsh and I. I keep eating dinner over there."

"Just dinner?"

'Just' didn't feel like an appropriate word. But still. "It's all very above board."

"Are you pondering how to get it. . . under board?"

"You're probably picturing something more scandalous than I am." Not that he wasn't _also_ thinking about that.

Amanda held her hands up innocently. "I don't know _what_ to picture. You've never shown the slightest bit of interest in a woman in the entire time I have known you."

"We have been at war much of that time," he pointed out, feeling oddly defensive. "And I did actually have a fiancee before the war. Well, before the asylum. Relationships don't often survive being declared insane." It was a milestone, he thought, to be able to talk casually about the most painful parts of your life.

"Was she also a petite blonde widow?"

"Dead opposite actually. There you go, Mrs. Marsh isn't my type. Problem solved."

Her mouth quirked up a little. "You sound very convinced."

"I'm not particularly good at this." He got up an opened the medicine cabinet, checking his supplies just to give himself something to do aside from this awkward conversation.

"Admittedly, my one and only courtship was hardly the norm. But I'm told flowers, compliments and statements of intent are a good place to start."

"And if she'd not interested do I get to look forward to an entire year of being ribbed about it like poor Rogers?"

"Are there any other men enjoying her above board dinners multiple times a week?"

"Not that I know of. I don't interrogate her as to her schedule. We're almost out of camphor."

Amanda shuffled papers around a moment before finding her ledger and making a note. "Well, I'm part of the gossip chain and I can assure you, she does not. Also, tell her to come to Sunday wash, we like her."

He wasn't _entirely_ sure Mrs. Marsh was the type who'd want to do her laundry behind the saloon with a motley group of mostly whores. She had clearly been of the social set, back where she was from. On the other hand, Mrs. Stark went to Sunday wash and she had been as upper class as they come. "So what, then? I just bring her flowers and say, 'hello, I'd like to court you'?"

"I've heard of worse plans." She glanced over at him. "She doesn't have you over for supper because she _dis_likes you."

"That doesn't necessarily mean she wants me propositioning her."

"Doesn't mean she doesn't, either." Amanda pinned him with a knowing glance. "Is this really about that? Or have you decided you're not worth loving again?"

He flinched, not liking the amount of truth in that. "You don't. . ." He trailed off, because telling her she didn't understand was too ridiculous to say aloud. She married a man who had been manipulated by trauma and morphine into being a hired gun. She'd probably had this exact conversation before. So instead he said, "She's got enough to worry about without adding me to it."

"That might be true," she conceded. "Or maybe having someone to share it with is exactly what she needs."

He was quite a moment. "I know you're worried about me."

"It is my job." She smiled softly. "But you're my friend. And I can tell you're unhappy. And I've noticed that since she moved here you've been unhappy less. And I want to see that continue."

"I will give it some thought," he said, hoping that would be enough for now. Because it was really all he could actually manage at this moment.

Amanda, bless her, nodded. "All right. I'm always here if you need advice."

The stage came through the following evening. Bruce wasn't expecting anything to come in, but the stage was town-wide news. There was a family on it with a little boy who ended up running around with the town kids in the morning while the stage was held up for wheel repair. He spotted them playing up and down main street as he did his rounds and walked down to the saloon for an early lunch.

“Mornin’ Doc,” Syn called from behind the bar. “Nat told me not to feed you because you’re a liar.”

Bruce laughed. “Mother nature follows no orders.”

"I think the whole town is praying that baby comes out soon. She's utterly unlivable.”

From the other end of the bar, Thor asked, “Can I expect Jane to become unlivable eventually?”

“At the end, most women are,” Bruce said.

"To be fair," Syn said, serving Bruce a plate of hot cakes and sausage. "Jane is much farther up the generally-pleasant scale than Nat is.”

Somewhere outside a child began screaming. Bruce paused to listen if it sounded like something that needed a doctor’s attention—kids yelled all the time—and was about to return to his food when another child’s voice joined in, and the first one got louder and more hysterical. An adult man’s voice yelled indistinctly, but angrily. 

Something dark and unwanted stirred.

He couldn’t see out the front windows, but Thor could, and whatever was happening prompted him to stand up and go outside. Syn was watching him warily. The Other One loved to smash the saloon—Bruce figured because his father had been a heavy drinker, and the more he drank the worse he was—but Nat was out of commission and Syn couldn’t afford the mess.

Maybe it was better he went outside, even if what was out there was likely to provoke the worst.

Thor's rumble had joined the chorus of yelling. Then there was the distinct sounds of someone being punched and hitting the ground.

Bruce sighed and stood. In any case, someone probably needed a doctor now.

The tableau that greeted him was. . . unexpected. The little boy from the stage was sitting on the edge of the boardwalk in his mother's lap, holding his arm. In front of them was the father, laid out on the ground holding his face. Thor was standing above him, clearly the one who had thrown the punch. Behind _him_ was the Marsh family. Violet was holding Neil, who was crying hysterically and repeating something incoherent. Violet looked somewhere between furious and upset. Ada was hanging onto her skirt, hiding.

That certainly looked like a doctor situation. _Smashing is not needed. Thor has it handled. It’s handled._ Sometimes, if he got lucky he could keep it inside. He had to. He didn’t want the children to see it. He didn’t want Violet to see it.

The man on the ground leapt up, his face clearly bleeding. “You broke my nose!” He wheeled around. “Is there a sheriff? Where’s the sheriff?”

Hearing the summons, or perhaps just the commotion, Marshal Rogers came out of his office/the jail, putting on his hat as he walked over. “What in the hell is going on here?”

"He broke my nose," the man said, thrusting a finger at Thor.

"I offered him a free lesson in manners," Thor replied, deadly calm.

Rogers looked at the man, then back at Thor. “What he do?”

"He called Neil a wild animal."

"He bit our boy!" yelled the man's wife.

"Because he wouldn't leave him alone," Violet snapped back.

"They were roughhousing, that's what boys do."

"Neil told him to stop," Ada piped up. "He said no a bunch of times and your boy didn't listen. You have to listen when people say no. It's their body and their choice!”

“See what happens when you try to tell your husband that, sweetheart,” the man sneered. 

Ada ducked back behind Violet’s skirt. Bruce took a deep breath and clenched his fists.

“He’ll listen or Thor will break his nose, too,” Rogers said without missing a beat. Broken Nose turned, his mouth open to say something, but Rogers didn’t let him. “Welcome to Triskelion, Skippy. Weirdest town west of the Mississippi. Now sit down, shut up, and let the doctor look at your kid’s arm. Or I’ll tie you to a horse and show you to the city limits right now.”

There was a tense moment while the two men stared at each other. Then Broken Nose stepped back and sank down next to his wife on the boardwalk.

Rogers looks at Bruce, probably to make sure he was okay with that, and he nodded. He passed around behind Thor so he could see Ada. He bent down and asked, “Could you run to my office and get my black bag for me?”

She nodded solemnly and turned, running off towards his office.

Violet had calmed Neil and his wails had stopped. He now had his face buried in her shoulder and was twirling some of her hair around his fingers.

“He okay?” Bruce asked.

She nodded. "Nothing some cheese and a nap won't fix. The boy wanted to wrestle him and wouldn't listen when he said no.”

Ada came sprinting back with Bruce’s bag. People had come out of buildings up and down the street—it was a small town—and he knew they wouldn’t like being the center of a crowd. He clapped Thor on the arm. “Could you see Mrs. Marsh and the children home?”

He met Bruce's gaze. "You're sure?" He nodded and Thor squeezed his arm. "I'll see them safe."

Once they went, Bruce crouched down to look at the boy’s arm. It was red, with very definitive teeth marks, but the skin wasn’t broken. He cleaned and bandaged it anyway, because that sort of thing made children feel better.

When he was done, the mother gave him a little smile in thanks, then he turned to the husband. "Would you like me to look at your nose?"

“Yeah.” He paused a moment, then asked, "What is wrong with that kid?”

"Nothing," Bruce said easily, inspecting his nose. "He asked your son to leave him alone and defended himself when he wouldn’t."

“You watch him for five minutes and you can see that he’s not right. Talking to himself and spinning in circles.”

"I have to reset your nose," Bruce informed him. "Hold still." He put fingers on either side of the man's nose and pressed, moving the cartilage back into place. The man screamed like he was having a leg cut off and Bruce hoped Amanda wasn't in earshot.

Somewhere behind him, in the vicinity of the blacksmith, he heard Tony Stark yell, “What is going on out here, is someone fucking a pig?”

It took a great deal of Bruce's considerable self control not to laugh.  
"That's all I can do," he said once he'd packed some dressing into the man's nostrils. "It'll heal on its own. Try not to bump it for the next few days.”

“Thanks.” He touched his nose gingerly. “You’re a doctor. Shouldn’t that kid be in some kind of asylum?”

Bruce's fist clenched and he let out a long, slow breath. "No," he said getting to his feet. "He's right where he should be.”

*

Thor got them all home safe and stayed with Violet while she got Neil calmed down with some food and his rock collection. Ada was grumpy and sad so he offered to take her for a walk. By then Jane and some of the other women had arrived to keep her company and she sat with them in the kitchen with tea.

Back east, in her social circles, tea was an entertainment and activity in and of itself. In the west, women were busy, and everyone brought hand work with them: knitting, sewing, mending. They were—all three of them—expecting, so there was plenty to be made.

Amanda was well past the point where any of Violet’s friends would have dared go out in public--and Pepper and Jane weren't that far behind. Many rules were different here. It was nice.

“There’s a hole again. How do I keep doing this?” Pepper was learning how to knit, and it did not seem to be going well.

Amanda leaned over to peer at it. "You dropped a stitch. Here." She plucked the knitting out of the other woman's hands, did something with a crochet hook, then handed it back. "You're doing much better, though."

“I think this might be harder than learning to cook,” she replied. “But at least there are no fires.” 

Pepper came from a class more than one level above Violet, and that was saying something. But neither of them had lived without domestic staff, or had to do much of anything for their own sustenance. When Violet had decided to accept this job, she’d had time to learn and prepare. Pepper had been dumped in pretty unexpectedly, and now really enjoyed telling stories of her bumbling attempts to manage the household. 

"Wait until you attempt socks," Amanda said brightly, making Jane snort with laughter.

“When the house is done, you’re hiring a cook, right?” Jane asked.

“If it’s ever done,” she replied with a sigh. Pepper and her husband had bought and were renovating a big house on the outskirts of town that had once belong to the evil despot they’d had that big shoot out with. Amanda’s husband was a carpenter and had been working on it all winter.

"It had better be done soon," Amanda said. "I'm taking James back when this baby is born."

“Well, I’m not giving birth in the smithy, so we’re in agreement.”

“Will you still come to Sunday Wash once you’ve got your house?” Jane asked.

“Of course,” Pepper said. “Though I reserve the right to leave the nappies and the linens to whomever I hire.”

“What is Sunday Wash?” Violet asked. She’d heard them reference it before.

"A bunch of us get together on Sunday after church and do our wash behind the saloon," Jane explained.

"You're more than welcome to attend," Amanda added.

“There’s a lot of swearing, and graphic discussions of all manner of inappropriate things,” Pepper said. “Just as a warning.”

“All the saloon girls go,” Jane said. “Listen long enough and you’ll learn about the penis size and bedroom habits about just about every man in town.”

“Sunday Wash is where I learned that word,” Pepper said. “And about fifty-two synonyms.”

"Oh, so like tea with my married friends." They all stared at her and she looked back to her mending. "I mean, there were probably less synonyms, but husbands and bedroom questions were a common topic of conversation.”

Amanda looked over at Pepper and asked, “What did you call it before?”

“Nothing. You have any idea how sheltered debutantes are? What I knew about sex was what Tony told me, and he was not chatty.”

"I had only a little more information," Jane admitted. "And that was from books."

"Anatomical text books can be quite handy," Amanda noted.

“Sunday Wash was the most useful,” Jane said. “Maybe too useful. Getting reviews and warnings about your new husband before the wedding is a little weird.”

“From what I heard the girls were really concerned you _needed_ warning,” Pepper said. “Given the size differential.”

“I did, but it is very weird that _you_ know that.”

“I know about everyone at this point,” she replied. “Except Doc and the Marshal, whom no one has seen.”

"They don't partake of the saloon?" Violet asked, hoping she didn't sound overly interested.

“I think Doc has treated too many cases of the clap to visit a brothel,” Amanda said. “I don’t know what’s the deal with Rogers is and I’m married to his best friend."

"Some men don't," Jane said. "Especially with him being the sheriff. Maybe he feels it will be a conflict of interest.”

“You should come to Sunday Wash,” Pepper said. “Just don’t bring Ada.”

"I'll be there with bells on.”

“I heard my name!” And there was Ada in the doorway, Thor behind her. “And what’s The Clap?”


	4. The Deadly Companions

A week after the incident with Neil, Bruce got woken up in the dead middle of the night by someone banging on the door. Not the most uncommon thing for being the only doctor in town. He opened it expecting Clint Barton telling him Natasha was in labor, but instead it was Ada.

"You have to come," she said, out of breath. "Neil's very sick and Mama's scared."

"Okay," he said. "Take a deep breath, let me get my bag." He threw on clothes and his coat, grabbed his medical bag and followed her out. She took off at a sprint and he had no choice but to jog as well. They went to the schoolhouse and he took the stairs two at a time, leaving Ada at a slower pace. 

She had Neil on the bed, and Bruce could see his body shaking in what he expected was a fever fit. "Hey," he said. "I'm here. What happened?"

"He's hot to the touch." Damp cloths covered his chest and the back of his neck. "He didn't eat much tonight and seemed tired. But he never tells me if he's hurt or doesn't feel well." She looked up at him, and her eyes were bright. "I don't know what's wrong."

"Cough? Runny nose? Stomach problems?" He touched Neil's skin as the fit subsided, then took his pulse. His heartbeat was rapid and that fever was very high. He wasn't sure he'd hold a thermometer in, but it really didn't matter the precise degree. 

"Mild cough. He was rubbing his nose at the dinner table."

He opened his mouth to look down his throat, and felt his neck. "All right. I want to take him outside, I'm hoping it will help break the fever." She stared at him, and he added, "Please trust me."

"I do," she said immediately. "Let me get my coat." She was in nothing but a nightrail.

He nodded, and lifted Neil up. Ada was hovering in the doorway, and he told her to get some pillows and blankets for him to lay on, and to bring the wet cloths. A few minutes later they had a spot on the grass, and Bruce tracked Neil's pulse again. "Have either of you been sick?"

Ada and her mother exchanged a glance and shook their heads in unison. "No one in class has been sick, either," Mrs. Marsh offered.

"It's not always obvious." He stroked Neil's forehead. "I'll take good care of him. I promise."

Sliding an arm around Ada's shoulders, Mrs. Marsh managed a weak smile. "I know you will."

The cold air helped bring the fever down, and Neil woke up to cough and cry for his mother. They brought him back inside, and put on water to make willow bark tea. Once they got some in him, Mrs. Marsh settled him back into bed. 

Bruce looked over at Ada, who was half asleep in her chair. "You should put her to bed," he said quietly. "We'll have a long night."

"Thank goodness Thor got her bed built." She coaxed the girl to stand up and guided her to the little bed tucking in the corner of the sitting room, hidden by screens. He heard Mrs. Marsh sing softly as she tucked the little girl in.

Rejoining him in the kitchen she smiled and sank into the chair beside him. "This is nicer with company."

"Vigils always make me feel helpless. Illness runs its course and you're mostly stuck watching. Surgery is sometimes terrifying, but at least it's productive." He smiled back at her. "Company is nice."

"There are a lot of vigils with children. Some more dire than others. I was alone for most of them. You're certainly the first doctor I actually wanted to spend it with."

"You really have met some asshole doctors, haven't you." He winced. "Sorry, pardon my language."

She laughed brightly. "Oh, please. My mouth is clean only because I am constantly surrounded by children."

"And here I thought no one taught proper ladies curse words."

"Yes, well. My husband wasn't entirely proper all the time."

"He died in the war?" He paused, realizing Neil was probably too young for that. "Well, no, I suppose not."

"No." She stood and put the kettle on, rummaging in her cabinets for plain black tea. "He went through the war just fine, then died in his sleep when Neil was a few months old."

"I'm sorry," he said softly. 

She lifted a shoulder. "It was very difficult when it happened. And I do still miss him, especially on nights like this. But the hurt fades, eventually."

"I suppose it does," he said, then found himself saying, "I almost got married once."

Her brows when up and she turned from her tea making to look at him. "I had no idea. Before the war?"

"Well before. From the brief time when I convinced myself I could be normal. That once I got out out on my own, I'd be sane. I'd be able to have a life and a family."

There was a couple heartbeats of silence, then she asked quietly, "What was she like?"

"Entirely too good for me." It had been a long time since he'd talked about Betty. He tended to compartmentalize his life into Before and After. She was from the Before.

"Society lady?" Mrs Marsh asked, using a rag to move the now-steaming kettle off the fire to pour two mugs of tea.

"Yes. Though she didn't want to be. She actually wanted to go to medical school. They do occasionally let women in. But her father was very domineering, and it just wasn't going to happen. Marrying a doctor was as close as she'd get."

She brought the mugs over and set one in front of him. "She must have been very smart."

"Probably smarter than me, to be honest. She read a lot of medical journals and would tell me things I'd end up incorporating into my practice."

That made her smile, wrapping her hands around her tea. "Sounds like quite the match."

"I thought so too. Wasn't meant to be, I guess."

"Some things we have no control over. Even things we think are certain." She shook her head and sipped her tea. "Especially those, maybe."

"There were a lot of things about my life I thought were certain. But I find I'm liking how uncertainty has shook out."

"I find I am too," she admitted. "This is a very welcoming town."

"Are you happy here?"

A slow, almost hesitant smile spread over her face. "I am. I like teaching. I like the . . . sense of freedom there is here. I like how happy my kids are. And the fact everyone seems to accept them, foibles and all. You and Thor and the Marshal defending Neil to that awful man really brought home how accepting everyone's been."

"That man is lucky he wasn't pounded into a bloody pulp."

"It was a very near thing. I didn't know Thor could get that angry."

"I'm just glad _I_ didn't get too angry. That I—and the. . ._other_. . .trust those guys."

"That probably would have put a damper on things," she agreed. "Though I found your presence very reassuring."

That made him smile. Most people he made nervous. "Thank you."

"I enjoy your company a great deal."

He took a breath. He shouldn't bring this up. He was here in a professional capacity, at her sick child's bedside. But that was an opening if ever there was one. "I enjoy your company, too. And not just—"

"Mama! Mama!" cried Neil from the bedroom. 

She jumped and held up a finger, getting to her feet to run over. "I'm here, I'm here."

Bruce sighed as he stood to follow, so he could check on the boy. It was a terrible time for that conversation anyway.

*

They stayed up the rest of the night, taking turns sitting up with Neil, changing his cool cloths and helping him drink. By dawn the fever seemed down, if not gone, and the telltale red rash of measles had spread over his face and chest. Measles wasn't exactly _fun_ but it was a known entity and Violet actually felt better once it appeared.

Dr. Banner hung quilts over the windows to protect Neil's eyes while it ran its course. "You'll need to cancel school for however long he's sick. And however long Ada is sick after him." He looked over his shoulder at her. "Unless she's had it." 

"She did, when I was pregnant with Neil. Her father and my mother took care of her. And I already sent her over to the Odinssons with the message, they'll spread it around to the other families."

"We haven't had an outbreak in the four years I've been here. I can ask Syn and Natasha when it last came through." He rubbed the back of his neck. "Oh, I'm going to have to quarantine her, she's not going to be happy about that."

Violet patted his arm in sympathy. "I'm sorry."

"I have some rounds to make," he replied, sounding oddly reluctant. "I'll be back in a bit to check on Neil." 

"Thank you. For everything. For last night. This would have been very difficult alone."

He smiled at her. "He's one of my favorite patients." He said it so casually, so off-handed, she knew it had to be honesty and not just something he was saying for her benefit. 

"Thank you," she said again, touched. "I'll see you later."

He leaned over to feel Neil's forehead one more top, and absently kiss the top of his head. "I'll be back in a couple of hours," he told her, and then he gathered up his things and left. Violet had an odd sense of deja vu, to all those mornings spent seeing her husband off. The only thing missing had been the goodbye kiss.

Shaking off the thought she got busy with the needs of the day. Ada would need breakfast and she should make up a little porridge for Neil to keep up his strength.

Dr. Banner came a couple times a day after that, lingering in the evenings for supper and to sit by the fire with her. He told her a bit about his work in the war, about the fight to save the town, about the things Mr. Stark was building. He was clearly tired, and probably should be resting instead of sitting up with her. But he did it anyway.

As Neil improved, other children began to show symptoms. Feeling vaguely guilty at how exhausted the doctor looked, Violet made it her mission to take care for him as he had cared for her and her family. In addition to supper, she began to make cold lunches for him to bring along on his busy rounds. She also started getting up early and cooking extra servings of breakfast to bring to him before he started his day.

She could have sent Ada with them. It probably would have been easiest. But instead, she went herself. One morning, she found him sleeping slumped over at his desk.

Violet set down her basket of food and went over to wake him. At best he was going to get a crick in his neck. At worst he'd try to roll over and fall out of his chair. "Dr. Banner?" she said softly, rubbing his back.

He woke up with a start a sharp inhale, then he rubbed his eyes and blinked at her. "Violet?"

She blinked in surprise. He had never called her by her given name before. "You fell asleep at your desk," she said gently. 

"Sorry. I haven't slept since—what day is it?"  
"Thursday."

"Ah. Right." He rubbed his eyes. "It was a bad night. The Lang girls have it. _All_ of them. The baby is very sick. It's the worst on the little ones. I really thought I was going to lose her last night." 

Violet made a sympathetic noise and kept rubbing his back in broad circles. "She made it through, though?

He nodded. "The night, anyway. The weather is helping me. Though all of the parents may quietly think I've lost my mind —more than usual—putting their kids out in the yard, but it gets the fevers down." He closed his eyes a moment, then opened them again. "Stark has it. Somehow he managed to miss it as a child. Case seems mild, but it can be rough on adults and he is behaving as though he has the bubonic plague."

"Of course he is." She squeezed his shoulder. "You need to sleep. You won't be good to anyone if you don't."

He shook his head. "What I need is for Natasha not to go into labor. I should have somebody who prays do some praying. Measles will kill a newborn."

"Well, neither of us has any control over that." Curling her hands around his arm, she tugged him to his feet. "What I _can_ do is get you to bed, and go do your rounds for you. If anyone is taking a turn for the worse I will come get you. And I'll stop by Amanda's and tell her to have Nat keep her legs crossed a few more days."

Thankfully, he let her pull him. "She's at the Starks. I was going to punch him, and she's better with people being jerks. If you're cooking you should take food out to some of the families."

"I will do that," she promised, already making a mental list of people she could deputize into the effort. The medical office took up most of the building. At the back there was a small kitchen and a door she hoped was some sort of bedroom with a real bed in it. He wouldn't get very good sleep if he crashed on the small cot across from his exam table.

She was correct about the door. The room was tiny, full of books and papers, a small dresser, wash stand and bed. If she'd been wearing a hooped skirt she wouldn't have been able to get inside.

She'd never been in a bachelor's bedroom before. Her mother would be scandalized.

Ignoring that prickle of guilty awareness, she steered him onto the bed and waited while he stretched out on the bed. "I will leave the breakfast basket in your kitchen," she told him. "And I'll come back in the afternoon to check on you."

He reached for her hand, giving it a little tug. "Thank you."

For a moment, she just stood and held his hand and found herself wishing she was in his bedroom for entirely different reasons. It had been a very long time since those sort of thoughts had occurred to her. This was probably not the time to explore it however.

"You're welcome. Get some rest." Eyes closed, he nodded, and a moment later his grip loosened and his arm fell to the bed.

Violet waited one more minute to make sure he was out. Then she turned on her heel and went to go marshal the troops. 

She took food over to the Langs and ended up staying for a couple of hours so Hope could sleep. Many of the other patients were scattered on the outlying farms, so the rounds took a while. No wonder he was so exhausted. 

On her way back into town she stopped at Jane's to check on her kids and the efforts of the cooks. Once she'd roped Jane and Pepper into the effort it was only a matter of time before they had half the healthy people in town involved, with an elaborate cooking and delivery schedule for the next few days.

Ada was happy with Jane's books and Neil was napping, so Violet took a couple plates of food back to Dr. Banner’s to update him. She found him in his kitchen by the fire, in shirtsleeves that were rolled up to his elbows, shaving by the better light of the big hearth. The sun was starting to get down. 

She paused in the doorway, uncertain. This felt at least as intimate as being in his bedroom with him this morning. Backing out seemed a little cowardly, though. Despite how utterly distracting she found his bare forearms.

When he paused to rinse his razor she said, "You're awake."

He smiled at her, shaving soap still on half his jaw. "Were you hoping to find me still asleep?"

"More concerned. Waking you up twice in one day seems unlucky."

"You are a very pleasant sight to wake up to," he said, then he closed his eyes. "That was out loud wasn't it?"

She found herself grinning. "It was, yes."

He cleared his throat and looked back at his mirror. "Do you mind if I finish shaving? The barber shop is closed, Wilson's kids have the measles."

"By all means, I brought us dinner."

He nodded, and she watched him carefully scrape the soap off the rest of his face with his razor. "Ada and Neil with the Odinssons?"

"Yes, and blissfully happy. Neil's napping - he's still not at a hundred percent - but Ada is happily learning about the stars."

"I've missed them," he said quietly. "This week."

Her heart ached at his tone. "They miss you. Neil asked about you."

He tapped his razor on the cup. "I promised him I'd take him fishing."

"There's still time." She carefully unwrapped the towels from the plates she'd brought over. "The Lang girls are all out of the woods. I stayed with them for a while while Hope slept."

"Baby's still breathing okay?" He groaned and dragged his chair back over to the table. "God that smells good."

"Baby's just fine. She was gurgling and cooing at me." She sank into the other chair. "There's one new case, out at the Myers, but it's the teenager, so I don't think you need to worry too much."

"I always worry," he said around a mouthful of food. 

"That's probably why you're a good doctor."

He chewed for a moment. "Thank you," he said. "For looking after me. I'm amazed I stayed. . .myself through that much sleep deprivation."

"Everyone needs someone to look after them now and then." She smiled. "And that's something I'm very good at."

"I had noticed that, yes." He studied her, his eyes searching her face. "This is different, though," he asked quietly, "Isn't it?"

She felt her cheeks heat and glanced down at her meal, feeling suddenly shy. "Yes. This is different."

He reached out and touched the back of her hand with two fingers, stroking the skin gently. It was small, but suddenly the only thing she could pay attention to. "If you're still mourning. . ."

"No," she said, probably too quickly. "It's been years. I miss him, but I'm not mourning any longer."

He smiled, and chuckled a little. His index finger traced the curve of her thumb. "Good."

A shiver traced up her spine. "So is this you. . . stating your intentions?"

"I meant to get flowers, but there was measles."

She laughed. "Maybe next time."

He tugged on her hand, lifting it so he could kiss her knuckles. "I promise."


	5. Uphill All the Way

Bruce did, in fact, bring her flowers the next week. Seeing as how he got a grin and a kiss on the cheek for his troubles, he then made it a habit to pick a small bouquet on his way into town whenever he visited outlying patients. If anyone noticed, they never said.

They probably did. It was a small town. But he was actually happy for the first time in longer than he could remember, so he didn't really care. Measles abated. The next person pounding on his door in the middle of the night had a much happier emergency.

Natasha delivered a healthy baby girl in a complication free labor. Amanda attended the birth and was happy to find it nearly scream free; Bruce was happy when she told him she wanted to be at more births. Barton had a breathing method he used as a sharpshooter that was hypnotically calming and helped so much he and Amanda discussed having it taught to other pregnant women. 

He left the Bartons as the sky just barely began to lighten, taking a walk about the outskirts of town in the pre-dawn light to stretch his legs. The sun was just coming up as he reached the school house. There was a lantern on in the kitchen window, but he didn't dare try to knock.

He did let himself get lost in a fantasy of what might happen if he did. So he was still standing there a moment later when Violet opened the door, wrapped in a thick, quilted dressing gown. "Is something wrong?"

"Nothing," he said quickly. "I'm sorry, did I wake you?"

She shook her head. "Neil decided four am was an excellent time to play with blocks and sing at the top of his lungs. I just got him back to sleep." Leaning a shoulder on the door jamb she gave a rueful smile, "It's Saturday, right? No school."

"Right. Sorry. I just took a walk. Natasha had her baby and I've been up all night."

"Oh! Boy or girl?"

"Healthy girl. They're both doing well."

"Good. That's good." She muffled a yawn behind her hand. "Do you want to come in? I have tea steeping."

"I would love to," he said. "Thank you." He paused. "Assuming the sun is up enough for it to be a proper hour."

She shrugged. "I've been up for hours. I'm sure it's fine."

He ducked inside, putting his hand on the small of her back. He loved that he could touch her now. "People talk."

"Let them. I've never been the source of gossip, it sounds exciting."

That made him laugh. "It's really not. Though I've never been a source of gossip about a good thing."

Setting out two mugs, she brought a very pretty teapot over to the table. "If this were back east maybe I'd worry. But this town is very. . . open about such things."

"That is certainly true."

"I'm more concerned they'll start asking me questions I don't have answers to."

He poured tea into her cup, then his. "Like what?"

She didn't answer until she'd put a dab of sugar and cream into her cup. "Length, girth and stamina."

He lost his grip on her sugar bowl and just barely caught it. "Jesus. Is _that_ what gets discussed at Sunday Wash?"

"Among other things," she confirmed. "And they love to hear about men they haven't gotten information on yet."

He rubbed his forehead. "I feel like I should apologize for my town and the idiots in it."

She smiled over her cup. "It's cute you think this is limited to the women here."

"I don't think our bedroom activities are of interest to ladies back east." Not that they had any bedroom activities. Not that that wasn't now the only thing he could think about.

"Not specifically. But most groups of young women in private tend to wander towards the risqué. Admittedly, the language at laundry day is coarser then I'm used to. But a good afternoon tea with married friends tended to turn the air a bit blue."

He took a slow breath. "Ah. Well."

For a few minutes they drank in silence. "Your days seem calmer."

"I've begun feeding myself and everything." He bumped his knee against hers. "You're a better cook."

"Why thank you." She paused and added seriously. "You're always welcome."

He reached out to slide his hand over hers. "Careful, I may take you up on that."

"I like having you here better than missing you."

It had been a long time since someone missed him. "I miss you when I don't see you, too."

She looked down at their joined hands for a moment. Then she leaned over and kissed him. It was a chaste, gentle kiss. The sort that wouldn't be embarrassing if someone stopped by, or one of the kids woke up. He shouldn't have tugged on her hand, shouldn't have pulled her close enough she had nowhere to go but in his lap. But he wasn't all that good at doing what he should.

Her little hand slid into his hair, holding him to her, clearly enthusiastic. She might not have intended the kiss to go this way. But she was certainly enjoying the turn of events. She was soft and warm and perfect, and she tasted like tea and sugar. "Violet," he whispered when then broke for air.

Smiling, she rubbed her nose against his. "I hope that's not a protest."

A lock of hair had escaped her long braid, and he wrapped it around his finger. "Not in the least."

She sighed softly. "We need to find more privacy."

He glanced over his shoulder at the darkened sitting room, where Ada slept behind a screen. "Yes. Hell if I can think of how right now."

"With notice, I can get a sitter."

"I'm concerned literally the whole town will know what we're doing."

She ruffled his hair. "Not sure that can be helped."

"I don't want to ruin your reputation," he said, pulling her close so he could kiss her again. Now that he _could_ he really didn't want to stop.

"People have reputations in this town?" she murmured. She had untied her dressing gown and he couldn't help but slide his hand inside, stroking her hip and thigh through the warm silk of her nightgown.

"So I hear," he replied, more interesting in following the curve of her waist. There wasn't much thickness to the fabric beneath his fingers, and it was very close to touching her skin.

Her breathing had changed and she shifted on his lap, resting her head on his shoulder. "Because I already do laundry with the whores so I'm not sure how much further I can ruin."

"I would not forgive myself if I caused you harm or grief."

"I can handle gossip," she assured him, kissing his jaw. "I think most of the people I consider friends would be very happy for us."

He could feel the shape of her ribcage—no one wore a corset to bed—as he moved his hand over it. His fingers brushed the outer curve of her breast. "So a sitter?"

She shivered and nodded. "Whenever you say."

As she wasn't objecting, he moved his hand higher. "Soon."

"Yes. Very soon." Her voice wasn't much more than a whisper, and he kissed her again. They really ought to stop. He shifted his hand and felt her nipple, tight and peaked under the fabric of her gown. The brush of his hand made her shudder and moan softly into his mouth.

He groaned. "All right, now I might need to protest."

She sucked in a breath and leaned back. "Yes. We should - not be doing this right now."

He reached up to brush his thumb over her swollen lower lip. "Later."

"Yes." She cleared her throat and slowly eased off his lap. "I'll talk to Jane about a babysitting day later this week."

"I should go home and get some sleep, I have been up all night."

"You should," she agreed, rather emphatically. "Do you need me to bring you any food?"

"No. Though if you had some bread I could steal I wouldn't say no."

"Of course. I'll put something together." She bustled over to the pantry, seemingly pleased to have something to do. Before he could protest she'd put together a little bundle of bread, cheese and fruit. 

She walked downstairs with him, and he kissed her in the doorway of the schoolhouse. "Have a good day."

"It's certainly off to a wonderful start."

For the first time in longer than he could remember, he whistled as he walked home.

*

It was amazing the power a long-denied libido could have over a woman. In her efforts to arrange childcare for her liaison with Dr. Banner, Violet rather quickly gave up on any sense of propriety. Her mother would have been horrified.

"I promise I won't breathe a word to anyone," Jane said, holding her hand up as if taking a proper vow. "I'm very happy for you."

"Thank you." Violet wondered if her blush was becoming permanent. "I feel like he'd be more embarrassed than I would."

"Men often are. Thor was inordinately, hilariously worried about my reputation and propriety."

"That is rather adorable. Bruce was worried about the very same thing. Seems rather a moot point out here."

"They come around," she said, rubbing her round belly. "Obviously."

Violet grinned. "Clearly. Are you sure it's not any trouble? I know how tired you can get this far along."

"I need the practice."

"All right. Thank you so much. I will owe you many babysitting nights once the little one makes an appearance."

Jane patted her arm. "I will keep that in mind.”

Saturday afternoon, Violet packed up her children and deposited them at the Odinsson’s for their sleepover. Ada was excited about doing midnight stargazing with Jane—the pretense for this whole shenanigan to keep her from asking too many questions. Then she set about cooking the nicest dinner she could muster. He’d said he’d be by after sunset.

She'd dressed up a bit, which she now felt a bit silly for. He'd certainly seen her at her most bedraggled. Sleep deprived and caring for a sick child. Sweaty and soggy after wash day. But it had been a very long time since she'd had a man in her bed and she didn't think anyone would blame her for wanting to look a little nice for it.

The sun was barely down when he knocked on her door. He was usually one of those men who had a small air of chaos about him—a little absent minded, a little disheveled. She found it endearing. But at the moment he was as well cleaned up as she’d ever seen him. Nice suit, crisp shirt and starched collars. He’d even gotten a haircut and a shave.

"You look nice," she told him, letting him in.

“Thank you. So do you.” He closed the door behind him. “Wilson kept asking me what I was up to, and I said nothing, just needed a cut and a shave. Then as I’m walking out the door, he calls, ‘Oh, hey, ask her if I can send my girls to the school’. So, secret we are not, it seems.”

Violet smiled. "I had no illusions that we were. Certainly the Odinssons know."

He shook his head. “It’s a small town.”

"If it helps, people seem generally happy for us.”

“Wilson certainly was. Though he is generally fond of me, I saved his wife’s life.”

She took his arm, leading him back to the kitchen where the dinner was waiting. "I think I met her during the measles outbreak. Asian woman? With braces on her legs?”

Bruce nodded. “Amanda and I were on the stage, heading further west. Overnighted here, and she goes down into the saloon and strikes up a conversation with the guy who owned it at the time named Nicky Fury. Somehow Fury ends up telling her about this friend of his whose wife has been in labor for four days, baby’s stuck, and incompetent crank who was then the town doctor won’t do anything. Because he apparently felt it was God’s way of demonstrating crippled people should not have babies. Amanda is upstairs banging on my door five minutes later.”

"Four _days_?" Violet squeaked. She'd thought her twenty eight hours with Ada had been arduous.

“It would have gone on until they both died, the baby wasn’t turned properly. She was adamant I not sacrifice the baby for her. I told them I had ether and could put her under and try to save them both. I was a battlefield surgeon, Violet, and I had never been so scared in my life.”

She squeezed his arm as they separated to sit at her table. "But you were clearly successful. She and Sasha both seem hale and hearty.”

“I still hope to never have to do it again.”

"I will pray you don't," she told him. "I admit I've only been to a few births but they managed to get themselves sorted just fine.”

“Most do.” He straightened in his chair. “Whatever you’re cooking smells delicious.”

"It's roast and biscuits," she told him, heading to the oven to check if it was ready. It was the same sort of simple fare she'd made for him a dozen times. But he was always complimentary, even when her seasoning was slightly off.

He gave her a genuine smile. “I think you make the best biscuits in town.”

"I think you're biased," she replied with her own smile. "But thank you.”

He stood, and came up behind her, resting his hands on her waist. “I am, but it’s okay.”

She felt her cheeks warm and her skin tighten, very aware of the places he touched her. She leaned back into the steady heat of him. "I will make you all the biscuits you like.”

His hand was on her neck, stroking the bare skin above her collar. “We have a deal.”

Sighing softly, she turned enough to kiss him. He cupped the nape of her neck in one hand, the other around her waist, pulling her fully against him. He was warm and solid and felt very nice. For the moment, the roast was forgotten as she wrapped her arms around him and held on, opening her mouth to accept a deeper kiss.

Someone was knocking on her door.

Bruce lifted his head and Violet sighed. "You have got to be kidding me.”

“Might be the kids,” Bruce said. The person banged harder a second time. 

"I suppose I should go check. . .”

On the other side of the door, James Barnes yelled, “Doc? Are you in there?” and just like that, her evening vanished.

Bruce had let her go and gone for the door almost before she realized it.

"The baby's coming," Barnes said when he'd opened it. "She says she's fine but she's been having pains all day and Syn says it'll be soon.”

“Okay,” Bruce said with a nod. “I’ll right there.”

He nodded and gave Violet an apologetic glance before running off.

Bruce turned back to Violet and she smiled. "Mind if I tag along?”

He smiled back. “Not at all. I’m down a nurse. Pack up the food, we’ll need to eat.”

"Give me five minutes.”

“Take your time. First babies are always slow.”


	6. Born to the Saddle

Violet got the meat wrapped up and the biscuits bundled up in a basket, then tossed a few spare towels and clean cloths on top. One could always use more cloths at a birth. Then she went to meet Bruce at the door.

He offered her his arm, and she tucked her hand in his elbow. “Sorry about this,” he said.

"It's really all right. I know you had no control over. And I'm sure Amanda would have clenched if she could.”

“This is something that. . . comes with me, I suppose. This is my job, and there will always be people banging on the door at weird hours.”

"Because you have an important job," she reminded him. "And I like that about you.”

He smiled and ducked his head. She noticed he wasn’t a man who took a compliment well. She’d have to work on that. They walked down to the Barneses house, which was next to his office. Bruce ducked in for some supplies, and then they went over.

It looked like every light in the house was on and when they got inside the living room was full of men. Barnes jumped up when he saw Bruce. "Thank god. There's been. . . yelling.”

“There usually is,” he said. “Why is half the town here?”

Before Barnes could answer, the bedroom door in the back opened, and Syn came out. “Finally, there you are.”

Violet followed Bruce over to her, and Syn waved at her. Then Bruce said, “I honestly wasn’t sure she’d call me. She’s been telling me she finds the idea of me being up her skirt a little weird. I was afraid she was going to make you deliver it.” 

"So did I. But it's being a bit stubborn and I'll feel better with you here." She shrugged. "Plus, you're better at settling her.”

That made him chuckle, and Syn opened the door for them. Amanda was sitting by the fireplace. “I was hoping you’d gone over to steal my birthing stool and it hadn’t been taken by bandits.” He gestured behind him. “I brought Violet, if you don’t mind. Since I seem to be down a nurse tonight.”

"More the merrier," she said, waving a hand. "I'm thinking of serving tea and scones soon.”

He pulled up a chair across from her. “Stats?”

She let out a long, slow breath. "Contractions are on top of each other. Syn says I'm open and the head is in place but the baby doesn't want to vacate.”

“Water break yet?”

"This morning.”

“It would probably be of use if I checked you.” He clearly said that very carefully.

She sighed deeply. "But will you respect me in the morning?”

“I respect you as much as I have ever respected anyone.” He stood, kissing the top of her head as he stood. He held out his hand for his bag, and rooted inside for a bottle. Violet watched him go to Amanda’s wash basin and scrub his hands, then pour something with a strong chemical smell on them from the bottle. He noticed her regard and said, “I read a paper by an Austrian doctor that applying antiseptic surgical practices to birth drastically reduces incidences of childbed fever. ” 

The doctor who delivered Ada and Neil hadn’t, as far as she knew, even washed his hands. But then she doubted he was the kind of man who read foreign-language medical papers, either.

He went over to Amanda and crouched as she hiked up the skirt of her nightrail. He slipped a hand under and Amanda looked up at the ceiling expression somewhere between annoyed and embarrassed.

After a stretch of awkward silence, he gently put her skirt back down and said, “Syn, we should talk about the difference between a head and an ass.” 

She crossed her arms. "I was afraid of that.”

“I don’t feel feet,” he said to Amanda. “It’ll be okay, I promise.”

"I trust you," she said, teeth gritted, clearly going through a contraction. "But it does explain a few things."

"In my defense," Syn said. "I've never helped with a breach and a butt feels an awful lot like a head when poking around up there.”

“The downside is,” Bruce said. “I can’t knock you out or dope you up much. You need gravity and to be able to move.”

"I didn't want drugs anyway," she told him.

He smiled at her, guiding her to lean farther forward. “You want to stick to bite on?” Violet couldn’t quite see Amanda’s face, but whatever was on it made him laugh. Then he pulled out a long wooden cone and used it to listen for the baby’s heartbeat. “Baby sounds good in there.”

"I'm sure he's quite comfortable," she muttered.

"Is there anything I can do to help?" Violet asked. 

“Put some water on to boil for tea,” he replied.

"On it." She gave a little salute and let herself out of the room, heading to the kitchen to get the kettle on.

Barnes appeared almost instantly. “How is she?”

"She seems fine." She paused, aware this might make him panic. "The baby is breach, so it might take a while. But Amanda and Bruce both seem optimistic.”

“I wish there was something I could do.”

"I know." Hal had been a helpless mess for both of her births. "But it'll all work out in time.”

More yelling came from the other side of the wall, and he flinched, and then straightened his shoulders. “I’ll be out here if she needs me.”

"I'll make sure she knows." He helped her fix tea and she brought it into the bed room. "Your husband is fretting but stoic," she informed Amanda.

“That sounds about right,” she replied through gritted teeth.

Bruce came over to take the tray from Violet. “Thank you. But I, uh, actually need to make medicinal tea. For her labor.”

"There's plain water in the kettle," she told him, gesturing with her chin.

“I should never have doubted.” He leaned over and kissed her nose.

She smiled and handed a cup to Syn. "I thought you might like some, too.”

Bruce made Amanda her tea out of a pouch from his bag, dumped a bunch of sugar in it and brought it over. He had to help her drink it, and brought another chair over for her to lean forward on.

"What will that do?" Violet asked him while Syn took a turn helping Amanda stand and sway.

“It helps with the contractions, and to reduce bleeding. It’s actually her concoction, I’m not sure what’s in it. But it works.” 

"Tastes like wood shavings, though," Amanda piped up. "Hence the sugar."

"Wish I'd had some of that with Ada.”

“If you have another I’ll. . .” She trailed off to growl through a contraction. “Make you some.”

"Thanks." Amanda was scary on the best of days. In the middle of labor she was bordering on demonic.

Amanda then decided to sit back down and hunch over again, and when Bruce went back to check on her, she said, “Did you talk to her about preventatives?”

He adjusted his glasses. “What?”

She gestured at Violet. "Preventatives. Not that anyone in this town gives a shit about out-of-wedlock babies, but she is the teacher. There are certain expectations.”

He flushed and then cleared his throat. “I don’t know this is really the time to be discussing my personal life. . .”

"I'm in labor, you're going to distract me.”

“You’re in labor, so you shouldn’t be worrying about me. And besides. . .” He looked like he was going to try and find some way to claim there wasn’t anything of that nature going on, while also clearly knowing that was a stupid and patently false thing to say. 

"I'm just saying, pulling out is not as effective as you might think.”

“Hence this awkward situation we’re in right now?”

She glared at him. "How did you guess?” Before he could reply, she leaned forward again and groaned. “I feel like I want to push.”

“Now this is the hard part. Don’t, until you absolutely can’t hold back any more.”

"I'm probably going to stab you before that happens.”

*

Not long after Bruce finished medical school, they’d opened a Lying-In hospital in Boston, modeled after those in Europe. It was hard for them to find doctors, as the pay was terrible and no one wanted to deliver babies for destitute Irish immigrants and the city’s prostitutes. Bruce took the job because it would have made his father wildly angry, and also laboring women were perhaps the least likely patients to agitate is dark side.

He didn’t work there long, but in the mean time, he delivered a lot of babies, from women of all shapes and sizes, and had seen just about every kind of presentation. Breeches were the easiest and the hardest, because you couldn’t do much more than wait, aside from 30 life-or-death seconds helping the head out. 

If he was honest, he was more scared helping this particular baby out than any of the others—including Mrs. Wilson’s. He and Amanda had been through hell together. Battlefield surgery under fire, a jailbreak and desertion, a flight out west and another battle. 

She helped keep him from going off the deep end. Everyone had to come out of this okay. They had to. 

The baby’s legs were folded all the way up, which was the best case scenario. “Should be one more and then the head will be out.” Unless it got stuck, in which case he had less than a minute to fix it. He spared a glance up at her. “It’s a girl, by the way.”

Amanda let out a slow breath. "I am slightly mollified by that news.”

“And you didn’t threaten to murder me, I’m so proud.” 

"I restrained myself, just for you.”

“One more,” he told her, as much an order as anything. “And you can meet your daughter.”

She nodded and took a deep breath. Then she clenched her fists, curled up and pushed, body tensing with the force of it. Without a pause the baby slid right into his hands. Usually breech babies needed encouragement to breath and cry, but she was squalling her head off by the time he lifted her up to Amanda.

Amanda grinned, relaxing. "That's my girl.”

Bruce sat on the floor, just to take a deep breath and let relief flood him. He looked over at Violet, who had been there the whole time—running errands, fetching things, keeping everyone updated. He’d ruined her evening and she’d stayed just the same.

"Do you want me to go get your husband?" she asked Amanda, who nodded. She ducked out, and a moment later Barnes burst into the room.

Bruce got out of the way, standing with more creaking joints than he wanted to acknowledge. He’d been crouched in one position for a good hour. Amanda and her husband were cooing over the baby, and he stayed long enough to make sure the afterbirth delivered safely and she wasn’t hemorrhaging. Barnes wanted to cut the cord with one his metal arm attachments, which Bruce had to sterilize. Syn wrapped the baby up, and Bruce kissed the top of Amanda’s head. “You did good, Newbury.”

"You too, Doc," she said quietly. “Thanks."

He rubbed her shoulder. “I’ll come by tomorrow to check on you both.”

"Not too early.”

“Don’t worry, I like my sleep.” He yawned, like punctuation. Then he pulled out his watch to see that in was 1:15 in the morning. Not as bad as he’d thought. 

"Goodnight, Bruce," she said, then glanced past him at Violet. "Make sure he gets home and actually rests?"

She gave a little salute. "Absolutely. Congratulations on your daughter.”

They walked next door to his building. This late there was a little chill in the air, and he put his arm around Violet’s shoulders. “Thank you for staying.”

"Of course I did." She tucked into his side. "Been a long time since I was in a birthing room.”

Then went up the steps to his porch. “I absolutely understand if you now want me to stay on the other side of the room from you.”

She laughed. "No, though I'm impressed you have enough energy to even make the joke.”

“Sometimes I have enough energy to run to San Francisco.” He opened his door and let her in. “Sometimes I have trouble getting out of bed unless someone is dying.” He looked at her a long moment. “It worries me you’ve only ever seen my good side.”

"I like to think it's a good sign.”

It was dark inside the office, and he lit a kerosene lamp. “I think the deeper into this we get, the worse it will be if it surfaces and you decide it’s not what you bargained for. Which I would not blame you for,” he added. 

She looked up at him. "I'm not easily frightened.”

He held the lamp up so he could see her better. Sometimes it knocked him over how beautiful she was. “Now that I believe.”

"I trust you," she said quietly. "No matter who you are.”

He sighed a little. “I suppose now it’s time for that awkward conversation about contraception. Lest I be later stabbed to death by my own nurse.”

"I would hate to be responsible for that." She spread her hands. "I have two kids and haven't had sex in four years. You probably know more than me.”

He leaned back against the exam table behind him. If he had been thinking about this more logically, and earlier, this probably would have been better coming from Amanda—or Syn, or Natasha or Darcy. Those girls had filled in any gaps in his knowledge quite well. “I worked at a lying-in hospital and now provide medical care for a brothel. I know about as much as there currently is to know. Turning on doctor mode with you just feels a little odd, I suppose.” He put the lamp down next to him. “I actually have a book, though I hid it so Ada wouldn’t find it.” He ticked off options on his fingers, “Timing by your cycle, a variety of barriers, withdrawal, antiseptic wash or some combination thereof are your options. We have abortifacents if needed but that’s a bad idea to do regularly.”

"I imagine a barrier is the most effective?”

“Generally. Though not terribly spontaneous.” He paused. “How long had you been married when Ada was born?” 

"Fourteen months.”

He nodded, and pushed off the table, taking the lamp over so he could look in the bottom drawer of his large medicine cabinet. “For women who are extremely fertile or in a high risk situation, a combination can be a good idea.”

"Do I qualify as extremely fertile or high risk?”

“Did you have healthy births?”

"Yes, though Ada's took a while, both babies were pink and yelling once they came out and I healed quickly.”

“First ones always take a while.” He found the box with the pessaries in it, and stood. “High risk is a difficult or dangerous birth, or an unreliable partner.”

"Nothing to worry about there, then," she said with a little smile.

He pulled out one of the compact-like cases and opened it to show her. “It covers the entrance to your womb.” 

She leaned forward to peer at it, clearly interested, then looked up at him through her lashes. "I'll probably need help putting it in. At least the first time.”

He reached tuck a lock that escaped her bun behind her ear, tracing his finger a long the shell of it. “I’ll need to make sure it’s the right size.” He stroked down over her jaw and along her neck. “Best done by feel.” 

"Mmm," she murmured, eye lids fluttering. "Where would you like me?”

“Probably best to do it here,” he said, and tipped up her face so he could kiss her. She pressed close to him, soft and tender. Her arms wrapped around his neck to hold herself closer. He backed her up until they bumped into his desk. He put the box down and somehow a stack of papers got knocked over. 

Violet gave a little hop, sitting on his desk and there was a clatter as more things fell. She cupped his face, kissing him deeply and he found he didn't actually care. He found the dainty buttons on her dress, and undid them with care.

"You're remarkably deft at that," she said, running her hands along his back.

“No one wants a surgeon with poor fine motor skills,” he replied.

"That's a good point." She untucked his shirt, sliding a hand under it to stroke his skin. He’d had both a jacket and a waistcoat on at some point, but that was many hours and a birth ago. He peeled her dress of her shoulders, then lifted her down off the desk so he could get the dress, and all it’s copious skirts, down and off.

Violet giggled a little as he fought them off, but he was rewarded with her in a thin shift and drawers. The fabric was so thin he could see the outline of her nipples through the shift. He cupped one of her breasts in his palm, feeling the warmth of her skin seep through the thin fabric. While he did that, she pushed his suspenders off his shoulders, and then started in on his buttons. Both their hands busy, he bent to kiss her again.

It briefly distracted her, hands pausing. Then she continued to strip the shirt off him. Then they had to part to pull her shift and his undershirt up and over their heads.

He grinned at her, lifting her back up onto the desk so he could unlace her boots and roll down her stockings. There was something very intimate about touching a woman’s bare legs, and he took his time running his hands along the curve of her calves, her knees, her thighs. She leaned back on her elbows as he worked. When he had both stockings off he cupped her legs to stroke her skin and she tipped her head back letting her legs fall open. He untied the drawstring and her waist so the two halves of her drawers fell apart and could be pulled off. He didn’t need to, but he liked the idea of her sprawled totally naked on his desk. 

Satisfied, he bent over to kiss one of her breasts, then the other, taking his time to taste her skin. Her fingers tangled in his hair, holding him to her. He trailed kissed down her belly, feeling her legs shift restlessly against his. He murmured something reassuring and patted her thigh. He wanted to taste all of her. 

"I continue to be amazed at your patience," she told him as he continued his exploration.

“I will accept all manner of amazement,” he told her, stroking his fingers over her sex and finding her wet. The touch made her inhale sharply. Her fingers tightened in his hair and her hips lifted, so he repeated the touch, stroking her as she grew slicker. He hitched one of her legs over his shoulder and kissed her there, earning another noise from her.

"Bruce," she mumbled, head tipping back on the desk. More papers and clutter fell to the floor. Fortunately, there was no way Amanda would be in the office tomorrow to tease him. He traced a pattern on her clit with him tongue, enjoy the sounds she made and the way she yanked at his hair. She even kicked him the back as she tried to lift up closer to him.

He stayed exactly where she wanted him and soon her breath was speeding up. Sliding a hand under her ass, he held her still as she cried out, sex pulsing against his mouth. He stroked her gently as as he straightened. She was sprawled out on his desk, having knocked just about everything off of it. His inkwell was probably somewhere coating the floorboards in indelible India ink, but he didn’t care one bit.

Violet took a moment to catch her breath, then smiled widely at him. "Hello there.”

He grinned back. “Hello, love.”

She lifted a hand and touched his face with light fingertips. "Was that to relax me before inserting the pessary?”

He turned to kiss her palm. “That was because I enjoy it. Doesn’t hurt the other thing, though.”

"Mmm. Hurry up and put it in. I want you.”

Never had he been more grateful for steady hands, as it was already a near thing getting it out of it’s case and fit inside her. He had at least guessed correctly on the size. “There is a fad back east for treating hysteria with orgasm. The call it something else, of course, and you go into the doctor’s office for your treatment.” Her body clenched around his fingers, and he curved them upwards, making her moan a little.

She shuddered. "Did you ever offer this treatment?”

“No,” he replied, rubbing his thumb over her clit. “I can damn well tell the difference between sex and medicine.”

That earned him a little groan. "Bruce. . .”

He moved his hand, so he could bend over far enough to kiss her. Her arms came around him, and it was a deep, explicit kiss tinged with desperation. He broke it only to murmur, “Here?”

"Yes. _Now_.” He pulled her up and to the edge of the desk so they could keep kissing. His pants suddenly had 87 buttons, and her attempts to help only made it worse. He was startled when she finally just ripped the fabric, sending a button flying off somewhere. Until she looked up, he hadn’t known you could put that much sex in the words, “I’ll mend it.”

But it worked, and he hooked his arms under her knees to hold her open while he pushed inside her. She moaned long and low as he filled her. Her sex clenched around him and she all but purred when he bottomed out.

"I almost forgot how good that feels," she murmured.

He managed a very hoarse sounding chuckle. She leaned back on her arms again, rocking up to meet him as he moved, and giving him a beautiful view of her in the dim lamplight. They moved together, as if they'd been doing this for years. She was warm and soft and eagerly responsive. He could feel her hands in his hair and curling around his shoulders. When he nails dug into his skin, he knew she was close again. He tipped her further back onto the desk to move faster and harder, letting go of her legs, reaching between them to touch her again.

Her hips snapped up sharply and she shuddered. Then she was clenching around him nails raking along his back as she gasped out his name. It felt so good, there wasn’t much he could do but let her pull him with him. The room spun and for a moment the world was perfectly quiet.

Violet nuzzled his neck, breathing hard, as he sank down on top of her. He'd be perfectly happy to never move again. 

For a bit they just floated and breathed, and eventually he realized his other hand, the one braced by her head, was wet. He lifted his head to look, and found out what happened his upended inkwell. “Oh, for god’s sake.”

She frowned at him, then twisted her head to follow his gaze. When she saw his black coated hand she started to laugh. She lifted her left hand, and found it similarly inked. Which likely meant there was ink on his back. He laughed, too, helping her sit. “Glad I forgot to take your hair down.”

"Me too. I would never have gotten it out." She looked at her hand again. "I feel like we're going to make more of a mess trying to get up.”

“Stay here,” he said. He managed to get his pants up and one of the suspenders over his shoulder with only one hand. He got cotton and alcohol, and went back to clean her hand and arm. He brought the lantern over and could see smudges on one of her breasts, and her thigh. Stains were still there, but he got most of it off her skin. 

He could also tell by her breathing that she was enjoying his careful ink removal in an entirely nonmedicinal way. So he put down the alcohol bottle to kiss her, eventually picking her up and carrying her back to his bedroom.

The ink on the desk could wait.


	7. A Big Hand For the Little Lady

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is so late. The holidays get kind of crazy in our neck of the woods. Enjoy Violet's trip to Sunday Wash.

Violet woke most morning to a small child climbing on her and demands for food. So it was a welcome change of pace to slowly drift to consciousness with a warm, comforting arm around her waist. She stretched languidly and rolled over, tucking her head under Bruce's chin. She had no idea what time it was and frankly didn't care. 

He rubbed her back. "Good morning."

"It's a very good morning," she murmured.

"How are you feeling?"

"Absolutely wonderful."

He kissed the top of her head and sighed. "We should get up. I need to see how badly we trashed the office last night before anyone shows up."

"Mmm, yes. I should go retrieve my children."

They were tangled together on a bed that was not designed to hold two people, so it was a little awkward getting up without falling up. She had noticed last night he seemed to have a number of scars, as she could feel them, but it took full daylight to realize how many there were. His back had ink on it, and a crisscrossed network of whip scars.

"Oh," she breathed, lifting a hand to trace one with her fingertips.

"Mmm?" he turned a little. "Oh, yes, there are a lot of those."

"What happened?"

"My father was a very violent man." It was a very matter-of-fact statement.

Violet slid her arms around him, resting her chin on his shoulder. "Bruce."

"He'd been in the navy and was a devout believer in discipline through flogging. When he'd get drunk it would be random and unpredictable—that's when he'd do things like throw boiling water or beat us with the fireplace poker—but it was usually calculating."

"Is that where your bad side came from?"

He nodded. "I think it started as a way to escape. So I didn't have to experience what was happening. The Other One took over. Eventually he started to fight back. One day when I was a teenager—sixteen, maybe—my father sent me out back for my whipping. . . and the next thing I knew I was standing over him, beaten to a pulp. He lost seven teeth and never walked right again." He turned his head. "He never hit any of us again, either."

She rubbed his back. "Do you have siblings?"

"My mother had a baby every other year, but they rarely survived. I know at least one he shook to death. One brother made it past infancy and died about 10 of an infected wound. Two sisters survived, one got married at 15 and went out west, I think just to get away. I've never heard from her. The other married a man appallingly like my father, and died in childbirth when I was in medical school."

She hugged him tightly. "I'm sorry, darling."

"You see why I'm sure he'll never hurt you children?"

"I do." She pressed a kiss to his shoulder and held him another moment. "How covered in ink do you think my dress is?"

"It might be fine, actually, I kicked it behind me."

"Ah, small favors. Next question. Do you have a privy?"

He gestured at the door. "Outhouse is out back. I don't keep anything inside." Which made sense for a man living alone. Violet got the impression all men in the west peed outside. Her long, frustrating and unsuccessful efforts to get Neil to use a chamber pot reliably had been solved their first week in Triskelion by Thor teaching him to water a bush.

She kissed him again and climbed out of bed to gather enough clothes to venture outside. He got up himself, going out to retrieve her dress—which was not stained at all. She put it on without the petticoats. Then he said, "There are. . . handprints on the desk."

"I'm not surprised, we were both pretty-" She stopped and looked at his face. "Incriminating hand prints?"

He cleared his throat. "Kind of, yes."

"Well. It's not like the whole town didn't know what we were doing."

He flushed. "I'll have it cleaned I promise." He was adorable when he was embarrassed. 

"You could keep it as a trophy of your conquest."

"You are not a conquest."

"I know." She kissed his nose. "It was a joke, Bruce."

He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her, long enough that she sincerely considered dragging him back to bed.

The call of nature finally beat out her libido and she reluctantly slipped away to do her business. When she got back she found him attempting to reassemble the office. Her underthings were piled in the corner and she rummaged through to assess the damage. "I need to go check on Amanda," he said. "And then the usual crowd will be in." He looked over at her. "But I'll be over for dinner?" It was half a statement, half a question.

"I'll make something special," she promised. "Since last night was interrupted."

"We could try again," he said. "Actually do it right."

"I don't think I can send the kids to the Odinssons twice in a row. But we'll see what we can get away with."

"Doesn't have to be tonight." He grinned. "We've got time."

"We do. All the time in the world."

He insisted on making her breakfast, and she was surprised at how good it was—though she supposed living alone he'd have had to learn to cook. Then he kissed her and sent her on her way to get kids from Thor and Jane.

Neil came running out of the house while she was still walking up the path. "Mama! Mama!"

"Hello, baby." She crouched so he could hug her. "Did you have a nice time with Jane and Thor?"

He nodded furiously against her shoulder.

Thor came out on to their front porch. "He had trouble sleeping, so we came outside and built a bench."

"You built a bench?" she asked Neil.

He nodded again. "Twenty eight nails."

Violet stood, picking him up and tucking him onto her hip. "Good to know."

"He was very precise," Thor said. "And he seems to be able to measure by sight—accurate to the eighth of an inch."

"He's always been like that," she replied. "Even when he was very little. When he learned to walk I thought I'd get apoplexy but he never fell, never missed a step."

"I would be happy to keep teaching him to build. I can talk to Mr. Barnes about having him visit the shop, and us taking him on as an apprentice when he's old enough. He will need a trade, and clearly has an aptitude." 

Violet blinked, surprised, then looked at Neil. "What do you think? Do you like to build?" He nodded solemnly, resting his head on her shoulder. Back in Philadelphia, so many people had told Violet all about what Neil was deficient at. None of them had ever bothered to consider or even look for what he was good at. "Thank you," she said to Thor. "I think that will be a good fit." 

He nodded, and then he turned back towards the house and called, "Miss Ada! Your mother is here."

A moment later, she came bounding outside. "Mama! Miz Jane taught me the names of so many stars!"

"Everyone was up in the middle of the night," Thor said mildly.

"Maybe I'll get a nap out of Mr. Neil tonight. Oh, where's Jane? Amanda had her baby, I'm sure she'd like to hear."

"She's napping, but I will let her know. What was it?"

"A girl. I don't know the name."

He nodded. "I shall have to go make my congratulations. I'm sure Jane will come up to the schoolhouse to ask you questions when she wakes."

"I'll make sure I have tea on." She hefted Neil higher on her hip. "Thank you both so much for watching them. It's nice to have people I trust."

"We all look after each other here, Mrs. Marsh."

She walked back home with the kids, marveling at how very lucky she had been to come here, of all the towns in the west.

Bruce came over for dinner that night, and stayed past when her children went to bed. They intended to have some restraint, and she walked him downstairs at the end of the night. . . which resulted instead in a very quiet tryst on the stairs between the school floor and her floor. Putting in her diaphragm just in case had been wise.

They were going to need to figure out some sort of arrangement; they were both a little old for stolen moments in awkward spots. Even if it was rather exciting. 

That week, she walked Neil down to the carpentry store before school and left him with Thor and James Barnes, who was happily beaming about his little girl. On her way back, she stopped in the barbershop to tell Mr. Wilson that he could absolutely send his daughters to school. "I have to ask. . . did Mrs. Odinsson tell you they couldn't?"

He shook his head. "Pierce had a whole list of places we couldn't go. Most of them I didn't care—wasn't gonna put my money in his bank anyway. But the school. . ." He sighed. "You may get guff from a couple of the other parents."

"I imagine I will. But I'll handle them. All children deserve an education."

He smiled. "My wife I figured since you brought us food while the kids were sick, you was good people, and insisted I ask."

"I was a vocal abolitionist before the war, much to my parent's chagrin at times. I'm looking forward to seeing your girls in class."

Mrs. Wilson showed up at the schoolhouse the very next morning, with her oldest in tow. Violet went down the porch steps to greet them, as she knew stairs were difficult for Mrs. Wilson. "Hello Mrs. Wilson. Miss Rei. I'm so glad you could make it."

The little girl beamed at her. "Thank you."

"Why don't you head inside and my daughter will help you find a desk."

The girl nodded and dashed off. Mrs. Wilson smiled. "Thank you. I was pretty sure you'd take her, but Sam insisted on asking."

"I'm just sorry I didn't ask earlier," Violet said. "It never occurred to me you'd been told not to come, knowing Jane."

"We learned long ago not to risk provocation unless desperate, or very certain. We're just too many different levels of unacceptable to some people."

"I understand. Well. . . not understand, but I see what you mean. You are always welcome at the school, as far as I'm concerned."

"It's new town, now, isn't it? With Pierce gone. I know you didn't know him, of course, but I keep thinking it. Maybe we could be more a part of this one."

"Everyone I've met has been very welcoming. I'm sure you've heard my son is. . . a little different. It's part of the reason we left the East. And everyone here has welcomed him and been very kind." She smiled. "Having the doctor on your side probably helps in acceptance."

"Everybody loves Doc. You do good and people around here don't care so much if you're a little different. Maybe smash things sometimes. Though that's much better than it used to be."

"He's told me about it. I know it worries him."

"Getting rid of Pierce helped. And I know he used to blow up a lot when the stage came through, until Marshal Rogers banned them from using buggy whips in town on account of how bad it made Sam jump. Almost took the Marshal's ear off once. Seemed to help Doc, he said he thought his other side didn't like the sound."

Violet thought of the crisscrossing scars on his back. "I imagine it doesn't, no."

"Been a long time since I heard about one of his rages. You must be a good influence."

"I like to think so." A couple of other kids ran past them, into the classroom. "I'd better get in there. I'll see you this afternoon? Or will Mr. Wilson be picking Rei up?"

"She'll see herself home. She likes to run around with the other children after they get out of school."

"All right. Have a nice day, Mrs. Wilson."

Rei Wilson had a perfectly nice day. She got along great everyone her age and there were zero problems. Violet didn't know if parents would complain, but the children were fine. She was however, surprised that Mrs. Wilson returned in the afternoon, after all.

"Is something wrong?" Violet asked when she approached where she was sitting on the porch.

"No, not at all. I actually got to thinking we might be able to help each other."

Violet tilted her head. "How so?"

"Right now I pay the girls at the saloon to do our wash. I'm not physically able to do it on my own. But it is expensive. So I thought perhaps I could trade you something you need for help with my wash." She cleared her throat. "Evening child minding, for example?"

Heat suffused her face. "That. . . would be very helpful."

"I thought it might."

"Feel free to bring your laundry by any time. And I will let you know a schedule for watching the kids."

She nodded. "Sounds good. Thank you."

"Thank _you_, I've never had to maneuver a new relationship around two children before."

"I'm happy to help. Doc saved my life. I'd like to see him actually have one of his own."

"He told me about that. Your labor, I mean."

"Never been so surprised to wake up in my life. He was genuinely apologetic to tell me I wouldn't be able to have any more children, and I think I just laughed. After that experience, it was perfectly fine by me."

Violet chuckled. "I suppose I should thank you. From what he said, it was saving you that made him stay in town here."

"I imagine pulling a happy ending out of what seemed like a certain tragedy was a nice change of pace for him." She smiled. "And this town has a way of not taking no for an answer."

Violet hesitated a moment, then said. "I do my wash with a group of the other women on Sundays. I am happy to do your wash with mine, but you should come along anyway. They're very welcoming."

"Sunday Wash?" she asked with a smile. "I'd love to come chat."

On Friday evening, Ada and Neil went to spend some time visiting at the Wilsons' house. Rei and Sasha were similar ages, so they would probably have a good time. Bruce and Violet actually got to have a nice dinner and an even nicer evening. It was a warm night, and they opened the windows for some well needed fresh air.

Violet didn't realize the folly of this until she arrived out behind the saloon for Sunday Wash and was greeted with applause.

"I will turn around and go back home if you're going to embarrass me," she scolded good-naturedly.

"No, no, we're proud of you," Darcy Bennett said. "Please stay, we have questions."

"That's not going to encourage her to stay," Jane said.

"I'm sorry," Amanda said. She had the baby bundled up and tied to her in a wrap. "I told them about the desk. I'm sleep deprived and weak."

"It's all right. I don't expect we're much of a secret." Violet carried her bundles over to the first set of tubs and dumped them in. "I'll be doing Lani Wilson's laundry in return for guilt free baby sitting." She gestured. "I invited her along."

Lani let go of one of her crutches to wave. "I can help with certain things. Since it looks communal. Just not much."

"Welcome," Natasha said. "You may get the babies. Mine's asleep inside but who knows how long that will last. Amanda can't do much, either."

The older children were all out running around in the street, loosely supervised by a couple of men sitting on the saloon's front porch. Neil couldn't be trusted without someone watching him, and the entire town seemed to have just. . . picked that up. Violet could trust someone would have eyes on him. 

"I enjoy babies," Lani assured her, finding a box to sit on. "Just not birthing them."

"No one loves birthing babies," Amanda said dryly, and the women laughed.

"I feel like Hope must," Darcy said. "She has so many."

"Bruce told me he's never been to any of her births," Violet said. "He's never made it in time. So, maybe."

Pepper sighed. "Think any of us will get that lucky?"

"Statistically, no," Syn said, hunching over a washbasin to scrub at something. "But neither is Amanda's or Lani's experiences likely either."

"My mother died in childbirth," Jane said. "As long as I beat that, it'll be fine."

"Let's not tell Doc that if we don't have to," Amanda said. "He worries."

"Well, at least his stress level is probably going down," Jane said with a laugh, and Violet could feel people looking at her again.

"Well, that didn't take long," Violet said. "Does anyone have any questions?"

Darcy opened her mouth, and Pepper held her hand up. "No. Don't ask it, whatever it is. Call me an uptight easterner, but there are things I don't want to know about the man delivering my baby."

The others laughed and Violet smiled. "Without going into detail then. He's a perfect gentleman, except when I don't want him to be. I have no complaints."

She could see Amanda smile. "I didn't want details either. But I am happy you are making each other happy."

"I think we're good for each other. We fill in the empty places in each other's lives."

"Okay," Darcy said. "That's really romantic."

_Oh, good._ Violet had realized as she'd said it how easy it would be to make a double entendre. "It did not occur to me I'd get to feel this way again."

"This is a good place for second chances," Amanda said.

"We should put that on the town sign," Syn quipped.

"Everybody, and I mean everybody," Pepper said, "wants Doc to get to have a nice, normal life."

"Yes. I had gotten that message. He's a bit concerned that his. . . other side has never come out in front of me. But I think it's a good sign. Clearly, I help him somehow."

"Have we seen it at all since the battle?" Natasha asked.

The rest of them paused, considering. "No," Amanda said finally. "Not to the best of my knowledge."

"It could be that, too. The whole atmosphere in town in different. There are less of the things that set him off. Rogers has the bad element in better order, too. We have a lot less rowdy troublemakers. Even the mostly harmless triggers, like when he'd brawl with Thor just because Thor was really drunk. Now Thor's got a wife and goes home after two beers. For example."

Violet thought about what Lani had said about the stagecoach and the horse whips. "You know," she said thoughtfully. "My son has been much happier since coming here, too. There's something to be said for being surrounded by people who understand and accept you."

"People back east. . ." Jane said. "They don't get anybody that's different. Everyone has to fit in their prescribed boxes. Out here in the prairie we all take the shape we're supposed to be. And that's never been so true as it has been since Pierce died."

"We're a town of odd shaped boxes," Lani said with a smile.

"The whole world is full of odd shaped boxes," Amanda corrected. "This is just the place we get to show it."

When everything was washed, dried, and folded, the ladies dispersed. Pepper offered to take Lani and her laundry home in the carriage, leaving Violet free to stop by the doctor's office to give Bruce the handful of shirts she'd taken to wash for him.

Ada was in there, sitting on the floor in a pile of textbooks. Bruce was scrubbing medical equipment with some potent-smelling solution. She had never in her life seen a doctor so intent on antiseptics and cleanliness, but she'd also never heard of people surviving gut wounds and c-sections either. "Hey," he said warmly when he saw her. "Neil is asleep in the back."

"You're a miracle worker," she told him, setting the stack of shirts on an empty chair. "The ladies send their best. Amanda is on her feet and looking well."

"I don't deserve any credit for Neil. Barton decided to let him wander as far as he felt like and just follow silently behind. Ended up having to carry Neil home six miles. Says next time he's taking a horse."

"Six miles. That's longer than I would have guessed."

"And I'm a little scared to think why the ladies are sending their best."

She glanced at Ada and said quietly, "Amanda saw the desk."

His cheeks flushed. "Ah, yes. Barnes offered to refinish it for me." At the moment he just had papers strategically piled on it.

"Are you going to take him up on it? Or keep it as a souvenir?"

"I don't need a souvenir, I have you," he replied. 

She smiled and leaned over to kiss him lightly. "You do."


	8. Paint Your Wagon

The remodel of Stark's house finally finished, and he and his wife moved out of the rooms above the smithy into their fancy house. Cal and Darcy Bennet moved out of their rented room in the saloon, as he was taking over as the new blacksmith. 

Bruce knew the next item on the construction docket was expanding the schoolhouse, which would give Violet more space upstairs, and more classroom space below. The upstairs was the urgent need, as the class wouldn't expand drastically for several years yet.

He had a better idea. 

Many of Triskelion's, well, white collar functions that had once been managed by Pierce and his minions, and left in the care of Loki Odinsson, one of only a handful of men in town with the education level to do something like manage a bank. As far as Bruce knew, himself, Loki, and Stark were the only ones with any kind of college.

So there was one building that was the bank, the post office, the telegraph office, and city hall records. (The actual City Hall, where things got done, was the saloon, though he expected that to move to a parlor at Stark's new house).

"Morning," Bruce said as he walked in. Scott Lang was behind the counter—he'd been the telegrapher before Pierce took it over and gave it to Loki, and apparently had his old job back. "He around?"

"Lurking as usual," Scott said, hooking a thumb towards the office. "Though in a decent mood."

Taking that as permission to go around back into the office, he found Loki at his desk frowning at the ledger he was scrawling in. "You have the land records here?" Bruce asked in greeting.

Without looking up, Loki pointed to the wall of filing cabinets across from him. "The drawers are labeled."

"The plot of land that used to belong to Hodge, across from the schoolhouse. Did Pierce seize that after he left?"

Now Loki looked up from the ledger, squinting as he thought. "He did, yes. It was on the list."

"Do you know if it still belongs to the estate or did Stark buy it?" Pierce had no heirs, so the disposition of his land was complicated.

"I don't know, why?"

"Because I want to buy it."

Loki blinked at him, then stood and went over to the filing cabinets. "You've never shown interest in owning land," he commented, pulling a drawer open and rummaging.

"I own my building," he replied. After a moment, he added. "I thought this one would be a good spot for a house for the schoolteacher."

"Ah, yes, Syn was telling me something about you and her. Something about a desk." He flipped through a ledger he'd pulled out of the drawer. "Here it is. Parcel 37. It still belongs to the state. I can get the paperwork started fo the purchase."

"Thank you," Bruce said, not acknowledging the comment about the desk.

He went back to his desk and they went over the paperwork. "I have to send it to the capital for approval," Loki said when they were done. "But I don't imagine there'll be a problem."

"Sure enough I can buy lumber?"

"Yes. Exactly that sure."

He tipped his hat. "Thank you. Mr. Odinsson."

"My pleasure, Dr. Banner."

His next stop was the carpentry shop, and he was happy to find both Thor and Barnes in there. Neil was in one corner, rubbing something with sandpaper, which distracted him a moment. "You guys sure he's not bothering you?"

Barnes looked up from the chair he was working on. "We love him. He seems to really enjoy doing very repetitive tasks. Which I admit is strange for a four-year-old boy, but very handy here. He's been sanding happily for over an hour." 

"We will take him on as an apprentice when he's a little older," Thor said. "I've spoken with Mrs. Marsh about it."

Bruce ducked his head. This town never ceased to amaze him. "I actually came to talk to you about the schoolhouse expansion."

"Ah, yes," Thor said. "It's next on our list."

"I was hoping to convince you to stall on that, and do something else instead. Namely, build her an actual house."

Thor and Barnes glanced at each other. "Oh, really?"

"I've made arrangements to get Hodge's field for it, over by the schoolhouse. Give her and the kids a some space of their own. They she can convert the upstairs of the schoolhouse to a second classroom, no addition needed."

"Fresh start is certainly more fun than an addition," Barnes said. "Do you want a custom house or look at the book of plans?"

"Whatever will go up the fastest, to be honest. They're really cramped up there." They were cramped everywhere they were. He longed to share a bed with her that was actually intended for two people.

"That'd be a pre-planned one." Barnes reached up and handed him a book. "Let us know which one, we can get started on prepping the land and the supplies will be here on the train in a few weeks."

"You mind if I take this?" Bruce asked, and Barnes nodded. After a pause Bruce added, "I'm going to tell her it's from the town."

They both blinked at him. "You will tell her the truth before you move in, right?" Barnes asked.

He sighed. That was. . . complicated. "For right now want her to have somewhere to live without strings attached. I don't intend to live in it. I will deed the land over to the town. . .and then tell her."

Barnes still looked a little skeptical. "Whatever you say, Doc."

"You're not going to live in it?" Thor asked. "You don't intend to wed?"

"I don't expect her to hand ownership of herself, her property, her means and her children over to a lunatic, no."

"You're not a lunatic," Barnes told him. "And she deserves the right to make her own choice."

"Just because I'm stable now doesn't mean I always will be. Ask your wife." He shoved his hands in his pockets. "In any case, that conversation isn't even on the table until she's actually seen it and understands what she's getting into. In the mean time, they need more space."

Thor opened his mouth, probably to protest more, but Barnes held up a hand. "Not our business anyway. We'll be out to start prepping the land in a couple days."

"Thank you," Bruce said, because that was the best he was going to get. 

He went to the schoolhouse for dinner that night, and brought the plan book with him. "It'll be less disruptive just to built you guys a separate building than have this one under construction. Barnes said you can pick the plan."

Ada immediately bounded over. "Can I have my own room?"

"Of course you can," Violet told her, shifting the book so she could see, too. "Neil can too. Maybe someday he'll even sleep in it."

"I hope so," Bruce muttered.

She gave him an amused look before turning back to Ada. "Mark a few of the plans you like and I'll take a look when I'm done cooking," she told her. "But nothing too fancy."

"The simpler it is, the quicker it will get built," Bruce told her.

The little girl frowned thoughtfully, carefully turning pages. Every so often she'd stick a piece of paper in-between two pages to mark it. They debated the few she'd decided were her favorites during dinner.

Violet gently vetoed the elaborate Queen Anne style Ada claimed was her favoritest favorite, and they eventually settled on a simple farmhouse plan, that did have an extra room labeled "Library" on the plans Ada could use to study in and a fourth bedroom upstairs Violet could use as a sewing room or office.

"Are you sure it's not too much?" she asked Bruce as he helped her with the dishes. "It's already so generous of them."

"I am absolutely certain," he told her, leaning over to kiss her temple.

She smiled and leaned into him. "Think Mr. Barnes will build me a nice big bed, too?"

He coughed. "I'm going to let _you_ ask about that."

"All right. I'll blink innocently and tell him it's so Neil can climb in with me."

"I'm sure he'll buy that."

*

Two days later, work was started on the spot across from the schoolhouse where Violet's new house would go. At the moment they were doing some sort of prep work, and Thor and Barnes waved at her when she came out onto her step to welcome the children.

Many of the children walked by themselves, but Hope brought her girls in because they got into trouble otherwise. And, Violet suspected, she liked a little adult conversation.

"I see they're getting started on your house," she commented to Violet as she shoed the girls inside the schoolhouse. "Congratulations are in order? I assume by its location you're going to keep teaching. Please say yes, my hellions listen to you."

"Oh, of course," Violet said, a little mystified. "I'm not going to quit right after the town builds me a new house."

Hope blinked. "Oh dear. I'm sorry. My husband is apparently eavesdropping very poorly. He told me Doc bought that land to build a house on and I. . . made a lot of assumptions that would follow such a thing. Please disregard." She smiled, then clearly thought of something and her brow furrowed, but she didn't elaborate.

"Dr. Banner bought the land?" Violet asked, unable to keep up with the rest of it.

"That's what Scott said he heard. Wired money to Topeka for it, I think it belonged to the state. Something about Pierce's estate."

"Ah." Violet summoned up a smile. "I'm sure I just misunderstood."

Hope cleared her throat. "Maybe Scott did. I assumed you were getting married. If you're not, that's a bit of an odd thing to just buy."

"It is, isn't it? I'm sure it's a silly mistake. I'll let you know if I get to the bottom of it."

"I'll see you this afternoon," she said with a wave, and turned to head back down the path. Violet waved in return and took a deep breath. She needed to focus on the kids for now. Bruce could wait. 

The school day kept her busy. Ada and Neil both seemed well behaved, like they could sense something was bothering her and were for once not making it worse.

She sent the children home at the end of the day, walking Sasha home so she could drop hers off with Lani and head over to Bruce's. She could have waited for him to come by for dinner, but didn't think she'd make it that long.

Much to her chagrin, his office was empty. She decided to wait for him, and it wasn't long until she heard the sound of his horse outside. He'd probably been on a call outside of town.

He had his black bag when he came in, and looked surprised but happy to see her. "Hi. I'm not late. Am I late?" He fished for his pocket watch.

"You're not late," she assured him. "I needed to talk to you."

Bruce put his bag down slowly, watching her. "All right."

"The town didn't buy me a new house. . . did it?"

He sighed, and leaned against his desk. "They are building it, in lieu of expanding the schoolhouse. But I did buy the land. And. . . the lumber. And the window glass. Apparently there's a lot of windows."

She smiled. "Ada liked the windows." Stepping closer, she asked, "Why did you tell me it was the town?"

"I think I'd describe it more as implied. . ." He rubbed his forehead. "My plan was to donate the deed to the town once I got it. I wasn't going just secretly own your house. That would defeat the point."

"And what was the point?"

"The point?"

"You said secretly owning my house would defeat the point. Was there a point?"

"Oh," he said, clearly flustered. "Right. You need a real house and didn't want there to be any. . .baggage."

She wouldn't make him explain what he meant by baggage. "What if I want there to be baggage?"

He fiddled with his cuffs. "I don't want you to owe me anything. Or feel like you do."

Reaching out, she curled a hand around his. "I don't feel I owe you things. But I like. . . sharing things."

"Legal entanglement is very different from sharing." 

She hesitated. "But it is generally the eventual goal of this sort of thing."

He squeezed her hand, and looked at her a long time. "I love you," he said quietly, not at all what she expected him to say. "I think that's probably pretty obvious. But you don't want to be trapped with me. I don't want you to be."

"I don't look at it as being trapped."

"That's because you've never seen my other side. If he took over and I never came back, you would be legally and financially trapped with a monster. I need you to at least understand what you'd be agreeing to."

She didn't like it, not at all, but he did have a point. "So we just have to. . . wait until he shows up?"

"More or less. In the mean time, I want you to have a house. Even if I can't share it with you."

Violet had never felt this particular blend of sorrow, frustration, gratitude, and love all at once before. It was an interesting experience. Showing she was upset would probably only make him feel guilty, so she squeezed his hand and said, "I will hold out hope we can someday."

He pulled her close enough he could put his arms around her. "So will I."

She leaned on him, nuzzling his shoulder. "I love you, too, by the way."

He kissed her temple. "Good."

"I'll see you for dinner?"

"I can't wait," he told her.

She leaned back to kiss him properly. "I'll leave you to your work, then. Thank you for the house."

Bruce might have paid for the land, and the lumber, but it quickly became obvious that the town really was building it. Every day when Violet went out to welcome the kids, there was some different combination of men out there, all helping build. She'd even seen Mr. Stark out there. Neil was fascinated by it and spent most of the day over there, following Thor around and working small tasks he was given. He really liked sanding, sorting nails, and whacking a wooden mallet to fit joints together. 

Violet was happy to have him not be under foot in the classroom. And happy he was learning things and burning energy and just being a part of things. It was a far cry from Philadelphia, that was for sure.

"Everyone has strengths," Thor said to her when she brought the crew out lunch as she'd taken to doing. "Out here on the frontier, we're too small and too alone not to take advantage of that. People do what they can and everyone can do something. Just a matter of figuring out what."

"It's just nice. The first time in his life I haven't had to worry about him getting bored or over stimulated. And he's sleeping so much better."

"He's very exacting with the nails. Bennett had to ask Stark to come help because he doesn't make them straight enough for Neil."

"He's always been very precise about straight lines," Violet said with a smile. "The wallpaper in my mother's parlor was hung slightly askew and it drove him mad." Or it had until he'd gotten in there one afternoon and started tearing it off. That was the closest she and her mother had ever come to blows over the children.

Thor smiled good-naturedly. "I'll be sure to bring him to harangue the paper-hanger."

"He'll be happy to help.”

Construction came to a screeching halt for the cattle drive, which was an experience like no other. Bruce was as busy has he had been during the measles epidemic, just on account of the volume of people suddenly in and around town. Violet closed the school down, to keep the children off the roads and to help Bruce. 

As swift as they had come, the cows and the cowboys left. The summer heat rolled across the prairie as the house went up. Not long after the plaster began going in on the first floor, Neil informed her that he wanted to live in the new house now. Thinking it would put an end to it, Violet told him that he could do it if he slept in his own bed.

Which is how she ended up camped in her new parlor, the most finished room. Thor hauled the beds from above the school house. Bruce came over to tack up sheets to give them some privacy. The windows had no glass yet, but it was so hot it didn't really matter. 

"He is, in fact, in his own bed," Bruce commented as they sat out on the porch—which didn't have any steps or railings yet—after Neil and Ada had gone to bed. 

"Neil long ago mastered the art of obeying the letter of the law if not the spirit." She sighed and tipped her head back, looking at the stars. "It's good he's excited about the house. I was a little worried he wouldn't handle the change well."

"Stark told me he's almost finished with your stove. He's putting in that thing he's got on his stove that heats water." He looked at her. "He promises it won't blow up."

She smirked. "I will hold him to that. Have I mentioned I'm not looking forward to teaching his children?"

He chuckled and shook his head. "The first one's already a pain in the ass and it's not even born yet."

"Poor Pepper's going to need a lot of help."

Bruce exhaled. "I am. . .worried. That baby should have been out last month and it is showing no signs of budging."

"First babies are often late, though, aren't they?"

"Yes, but there are usually some signs. And this is now getting very late. I may need to attempt to induce, and that's dangerous." He sighed. "Since Lani Wilson survived her surgery I have not lost a single mother. I keep wondering when the odds are going to stop running in my favor."

Violet reached over and took his hand. "All you can do is your best, Bruce. No one can expect more of you."

"Doesn't make losing a patient any easier. I still can't believe no one died during the measles outbreak." 

She squeezed his hand not sure what to say. He shifted, putting an arm around her and pulling her closer. "I suppose that's part of why I feel like we're in some kind of bubble. This is the longest in my life that things have been good, and I have been happy."

"Bad things will probably happen," she said. "But you shouldn't ruin the good days by worrying about them."

"That's very good advice," he replied. "I should listen to it."

"I'm very smart, you know," she teased.

"I should also probably get home." He leaned over to kiss her. "Dinner if I don't see you sooner?"

"Absolutely. Have a good night."

He hopped off the porch, and waved to her before starting his walk back to his building. She really hoped this wouldn't have to happen too much longer.


	9. Count Three and Pray

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When we started out we didn't intend for there to be so many births in this story, but it just kind of happened.

The thermometer hit a hundred degrees, and the air was stagnant. Violet closed the school after one of the children fainted from the heat while walking in. The stage rolled in with a broken part on the coach and got stuck because no one could stand to operate the forge. Bruce treated people for heat sickness and dehydration and stomach complaints caused by rapidly spoiling food. Neil ran around nearly naked because they couldn't convince him to dress. Bruce had his pregnant patients down in their cellars.

"You said there are methods. I want to talk about them." Pepper Stark was in a bathtub of water—dressed—in said cellar, and clearly miserable.

Her husband was pacing small circles behind her. "You said they were dangerous."

"They can be," Bruce said. "But it may be getting more dangerous to wait."

That clearly didn't make Stark happy, but he waved an impatient hand at him. "What are they?"

"The most reliable is rupturing your membranes. Labor usually starts within a few hours."

Stark turned. "Define 'usually'."

"This overdue? Nine out of ten."

"And the one?" Pepper asked.

"If you wait too long, infection sets in. Or the baby dies. Often both. If a caesarean is done before the infection gets ahold, the baby will likely be fine, your odds are probably 50/50." 

Stark's face was white, but Pepper just watched him. Women knew what kind of danger they were in, and they were almost universally calm about it. "Anything less Rubicon?"

"Abortifacents can get labor started, but they're pretty toxic. Many midwives use castor oil, I can give you some of that, but it's pretty unpleasant." He looked at the two of them a moment, then sighed. "I know you're both fancy society people, so I may be about to offend you greatly. . . but the prostitutes at the lying-in hospital I used to work at _swore_, uh. . .relations kicked off labor. I heard that often."

Pepper turned pink but Stark nodded solemnly. "That'd be easier if it cooled off a bit."

"I can't help the weather," he replied. "But if something doesn't happen soon, there's a very serious chance of a stillbirth, or the baby getting stuck."

"Does Syn know any tricks?" Pepper asked. Syn had no medical training but had been an unofficial midwife before Bruce came to town.

He’d bet real money Syn would recommend sex. If he’d thought of it he should have let her tell them that. ”I can see if she'll come by. Your cellar seems cooler than hers."

"Thank you," she said. "And we'll think about what you said."

"In the mean time, drink plenty of water, and stay out of the heat."

He swung by the saloon to see Syn afterwards. She was also pregnant, and had convinced her husband to stand there and fan her. "If you sold fanning services to the highest bidder today, you'd probably make a fortune, you know."

"Loki suggested that about an hour ago," she admitted. "I made it clear I wouldn't be sharing."

"If you have any energy, Mrs. Stark has questions about induction methods. Their cellar is deep, it's pretty nice down there," he added. 

"Ah, yes, she's worse off than I am." She looked up at Loki. "Care to take me to the Starks?"

"Of course darling."

"And how are you feeling?" Bruce asked her. 

She blew out a breath. "Very pregnant. Had some false pains earlier today but they subsided. I don't have much appetite, though."

"That is very normal, unfortunately. Let me know if anything changes."

"You will be the first to know."

Bruce went back to his office for a few, and then to the general store to get some supplies. Mrs. Hill was sitting in a chair on the wooden sidewalk, with a table of sundries next to her. "I don't go in unless I have to," she commented. "And there's no pie."

"I'm here for coffee and fabric," he said, and she waved her hand. He got his things from the sweltering inside of the store, and came back out.

As he was paying, Mrs. Hill said. "So you know I hear everybody's gossip."

"When have I ever been interested in gossip?

"You might when it's about Mrs. Marsh."

He stilled, and nodded. "Go on."

"Your quasi living in sin has been noticed."

Bruce sighed. "I don't live there." She raised an eyebrow. "It's complicated. Anyone who has been here long enough to see my other side has got to know damn well why it's not a good idea for me to marry her." He stared her down. "You in particular." The late Mr. Hill had been a drunk and angry man not unlike Bruce's father. When he'd turned up dead from a cracked skull, Bruce had looked at this woman two black eyes, a split lip, and bloody hands, and written "thrown from horse" on his death certificate without a second thought.

He'd then gone and thrown chairs at the saloon, of course, and he and Mrs. Hill had had an odd relationship ever since.

"You haven't been him in a long time," she pointed out.

"That doesn't mean I won't. Nothing really bad has happened, either."

She shrugged. “So if you get bad again she divorces you and calls it a day."

"You say that like it's easy to do."

"It is. In Kansas, at least. She just has to prove it's someone's fault, namely yours. She'd get custody of any children and keep her property." She took a sip of the lemonade she had next to her. "I looked into it. Before. But my poor late husband informed me he'd kill me before I'd divorce him."

This was. . . very new information. "I didn't know that. Back east it's nearly impossible."

"Yeah, I've heard. I don't know who set it up like that here. Maybe they had a father like yours."

He ducked his head. "Yeah."

"Anyway. Maybe you should look into making her an honest woman."

It was too hot to fully process this, but he had time. "Right. Well, thanks."

"Anytime, Doc."

He went over to the house to find Violet and the kids out in the yard, having dragged the tin bathtub out by the well so she could fill it with cool water and let the kids splash around. "Cold supper?" he called as he approached.

"I'm certainly not going to stand over a fire," she confirmed. "How is everyone?"

"Pepper is considering induction. Everyone else is stable. I am melting."

She held out a glass of sweet tea. "Induction is dangerous, isn't it?"

He took it. "Going over a month past term is, too. One is a bigger risk to her, the other to the baby. I can't make that call for her."

"Poor thing. I'll go visit her tomorrow. Maybe I can bake something for her in the morning before it gets hot."

"You're brave for firing the stove." He kissed her temple. "And hopefully the weather will break soon."

"Hopefully." She leaned into him. "Is it always like this in the summer?"

"Hot, yes. _This_ hot, no." He went over to the tub to splash some water on himself. 

She was giving him a very saucy look when he came back. "I wish you could stay here tonight."

He looked at her a long moment, thinking about what Mrs. Hill had said. "About that. . ."

Her brows went up. "Yes?"

Bruce opened his mouth, and from behind him someone was calling, "Dr. Banner!" He sighed and turned, in time to see Thor coming around that house. "I was hoping you'd be here. Jane says it's time."

He'd seen people look less nervous about having their leg amputated than Thor looked right now. "Right," Bruce said. "Ada? Can you run down to the blacksmith and fetch Mrs. Bennett?" She hopped up, and he turned to Violet. "Take Neil to the Wilsons, I might need reinforcements."

"I'll meet you over there," she told him, getting to her feet and heading over to talk to Neil.

He hiked over to the Odinssons, where Jane was on the porch. "Doc, I'm not giving birth in the cellar."

"You can labor wherever you wish, but you will labor for quite a while, and it's cooler down there at least until nightfall." He pulled out his stethoscope to listen for the baby's heart, which was strong. "How far apart are the pains?"

She blew out a breath. "A few minutes? I haven't been able to get an exact timing."

"I know it's hot, but if you can get up and walk around, it will help."

She grumbled but she did it; Thor helped hold her up. Ada arrived with Darcy Bennett, who was Jane's close friend. Violet came, after seeing to Neil. Bruce stayed out of the way. This was still, nearly all of it, women’s work. He was just there if something went wrong.

Word got around town, and eventually Amanda came out to see how things were going, too. She was feeling much more comfortable at births after Natasha's, and her own. Bruce hoped someday they wouldn't have to call him unless the wrong was life-or-death.

"Edith does not like the weather," she commented as they shared a glass of lemonade while Jane paced.

"Your poor husband," he replied.

"Oh, I left her with Nat so she be fed when she wakes up. James is coming up here, he figured Thor could do for some company."

"I think a long night awaits us all."

"They're always long."

The sun set and the temperature cooled a little—at which point it was definitely nicer outside. Violet made everyone dinner, and they took turns making sure Jane got food and water in her. One of them listened to the baby every half hour or so.

They were just having a conversation about splitting the overnight shifts when he could see a carriage rolling through the center of town. Stark's carriage, to be specific. He could see Jarvis driving it. It became obvious he was headed for Violet's house. "You've got to be shitting me," Bruce muttered, and then stood up and whistled loudly to get Jarvis's attention.

Sure enough, he abruptly changed direction and pulled up in front of the Odinsson's. "Doctor. Mrs. Stark believes it's time. I was sent to fetch you urgently."

"That kid's really all kinds of trouble, isn't he?" Jarvis didn't reply, so Bruce turned and went over to Amanda. "I need to go check on her. Will you be all right here?"

She didn't look happy, but she grit her teeth and nodded. "Go. We have a long time to go here. As, I imagine, does Pepper."

He squeezed her arm. "I'll see if Syn is up to coming over and help out here."

"Oh, she's as pregnant as the rest of them. I'll only bother her if I need her."

He looked up at the sky. "It's a full moon tonight."

She smiled. "You superstitious, Doc?"

"No, but that does put to rest that weird rumor that I might be a werewolf." He climbed up into the carriage. "Good luck, I'll be back when I can."

"Be safe," she said, waving as they pulled out.

When the carriage arrived at the Starks' house, Bruce went straight upstairs, and ran into Syn in the hallway. "Oh, good, you're still here," he said. "Jane Odinsson's in labor, is there any way you could go help Newbury? Births make her uncomfortable."

Syn sighed. "I would, but my waters just broke."

He stared at her. "Okay, now I'm superstitious."

"Bad things happen in threes?"

"I hope tonight isn't going to be bad," he said. "If you don't want to deliver on your own, you may want to stay here. We can send somebody for your husband and Natasha." 

"Pepper already offered me a room, but there's no need to bother Natasha. She can help Amanda if she needs it. I can handle myself. I'll yell for you if I need it."

"Thank you," he said, reaching out to squeeze her arm before going to see his patient. This was going to be an interesting night.

*

First babies took a long time to be born, but Violet suspected Jane had been in labor for a while before she finally sent her husband for the doctor. It was just a little before midnight when the baby made his way into the world—a healthy boy, plump and pink with extremely good lungs.

Amanda delivered him without a single problem, and there wasn't any screaming. Jane wasn't particularly quiet, but it more of a low battle cry than the kind of sounds someone made during an amputation.

For all his nerves earlier in the evening, Thor had stayed in the room—Clint Barton had convinced him it was worth doing—and turned out to be very calm and helpful. Though he did turn a little white when Amanda asked him if he wanted to cut the umbilical cord. Violet was pretty sure her late husband would have fainted if he'd tried to stay.

"Thanks for sticking around," Amanda said when they were done cleaning up. "It went better than I'd feared."

"I'm always happy to help out." She looked up at her. "Are you going to go help at the Stark's?"

She sighed and nodded. "Might as well go check in. I'm going to stop by the saloon and check on Edie before my breasts explode first."

Violet nodded. "I'll see you there, then." 

Ada had run out of steam and gone to the Wilson's to sleep a couple hours ago. Their windows were all dark, so Violet didn't go knock. She'd get to see the baby in the morning. It was about a mile out to the Stark's house from the center of town, but it was a nice walk so she didn't mind doing it. 

They had seemingly every lamp in the house lit, and when Violet got inside to the parlor there were quite a few men in there, including Barton and Barnes and both their babies.

"Syn is having her baby tonight, too," Barton said when she stared at him. "We brought the babies over here so Nat could help."

"Ah. Amanda went to look for you. I'm sure she'll be along soon."

He held Edie out to Violet. "Hold the baby, I'll take a horse and go get her."

"My pleasure." She cuddled Edie against her chest and rocked her a moment, before venturing upstairs to check on Bruce.

He appeared in the hallway as she started up the stairs. "Hey," he said, coming down to meet her. "I thought I heard your voice. How are things over there?"

"Healthy baby boy. Amanda did fine, Jane didn't scream. We cleaned up and headed over here. Barnes went to go pick her up since Edie's here."

"Syn is progressing quickly, I think she'll be soon."

Violet nodded. "Let me know if you need help. Amanda might be near her limit, but I can help."

"You might want to go see if Pepper wants some company. I made her husband go get some sleep, he has a heart condition."

"I will do that." She popped on her toes to kiss his cheek before heading to Pepper's bedroom.

Pepper was in pretty good spirits, considering. Violet reported on Jane's baby, and made conversation just to keep her distracted. Ten minutes later there was a knock, and then Amanda came in. "I'm looking for my baby," she said with a smile. "And I've got the kitchen making labor tea." Violet held up Edie when she got close enough.

"Doc thinks it will be well into tomorrow," Pepper said. She rubbed her belly. "Baby's still moving."

"Let me feed Edie and then I'll listen," Amanda said.

She settled to nurse and Violet reached over to rub Pepper's arm. "Ada took ages and ages. The ladies and I were joking I'd have to start charging rent to get her to move."

"He has to come out one way or another."

"Leave it to Stark's kid to be stubborn," Amanda added, shifting Edie.

"I'm worried there's a big head that will get stuck," Pepper joked.

Out in the hallway, suddenly, you could hear Natasha yelling, "Doc!"

The three of them exchanged worried looks. Because the others were pretty stuck in place, Violet got up to check, arriving in the hall just as Bruce did. "What's wrong?"

"She's pushing, I thought some help might be in order."

"That was fast," he said, heading for the door. He sounded more exasperated than concerned, but Violet decided to follow anyway, just in case they needed extra help.

The second baby of the night arrived with even less fuss than the first. This one was a girl, also healthy and just as loud. Syn was pretty calm, Natasha had taught her that breathing method Bruce had raved about, and it seemed to help a whole lot. 

The baby was already out by the time Amanda made it over. Violet was quickly sent to the stairs, to inform the group of men gathered on the bottom landing which one of them was a father.

Loki came up the stairs two at a time and she ducked aside to avoid being trampled. By the time she got back to the room he was sitting next to Syn, marveling at his daughter.

"Didn't I tell you?" Syn was saying. "Didn't I tell you she'd be beautiful?"

"I will never doubt again," he replied. 

Bruce came up next to Violet, and put his arm around her waist. "Sometimes my job's not so bad."

"This is a good night," she agreed, leaning back into him.

"Two down, one to go."

"You might want to check Pepper, Amanda didn't get a chance before Syn started pushing."

"Yep." He kissed her temple and let himself out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the 19th century Kansas did in fact have some of the most progressive divorce laws in the nation.


	10. The Good, The Bad, and the Ugly

It went on all night, and into the morning. People took turns and slept in shifts. After getting some sleep, Syn felt well enough to go in and confer with Bruce and Amanda. They made more labor tea, and Syn had the suggestion to let Pepper try to nurse one of the babies—which worked better than anyone expected.

It reminded Violet a lot of when Ada had been born. Of course, it hadn't been in the middle of a heat wave.

Mid morning, after the cook made everyone breakfast, they moved Pepper downstairs into the cooler part of the house. Bruce at least didn't seem worried. "Progress is steady and the baby's heartbeat is strong. Sometimes it's just slow. I'd be surprised if it's before dinner. You may want to go check on the kids."

"That's probably a good idea." She kissed his cheek and gave Pepper a hug. "Good luck. I'll be back in the evening."

When she got to the Wilsons, she found Neil's hair was significantly shorter than it had been yesterday. "I'm sorry," Lani told her. "He let himself into the barbershop in the middle of the night and cut one side. Sam cleaned it up this morning."

She tried, unsuccessfully, to hide her delight. "I've been trying to get him a hair cut for _ages_."

"Oh, thank god," Lani said. Then she smiled. "He sat in the chair and demanded a shave, too."

"Honestly, he's been doing so well since we came here. I'm constantly amazed."

"It's an unusual town." She shifted her crutches to lower herself into a chair. Violet noticed Lani could only stand for certain stretches of time. "The old doctor—before Dr. Banner—told me when I was pregnant with Rei that I should pray for a stillbirth, because there was no way a cripple could take care of a baby. Most people have a very narrow view of what someone is capable of."

Violet took a seat across from Lani and Neil promptly climbed in her lap. She ruffled her hand over his short hair and he giggled like it tickled. "I don't generally believe in fate. But it does seem like people who need this town find it."

"I know exactly what you mean."

"Mama, can we go see Mrs. Odinsson's baby?" Ada asked. 

"We can walk over and ask," Violet said. "But if they're not up for visitors, we have to leave them be."

"Okay," she said, looking disappointed. But she didn't whine, so Violet took that as a win.

"Neil can stay here," Lani said. "I'm sure Jane won't be up for him."

She felt a pang of guilt at leaving him again. But Lani had a point and he did like the Wilsons. So she gave him hugs and kisses and took Ada's hand to walk down to the Odinssons.

"Mr. Wilson can't read," Ada told her as they walked.

"Mr. Wilson was raised as a slave, they didn't get very much education. He's made a good life for himself despite it, though."

"He said it was against the law for him to go to school. Which is a dumb law. I told him he should come to our school," she replied matter-of-factly. "But he said he was fine."

Violet smiled. Her little girl wasn't going to stand for any sort of unfairness. "He might feel a little bit funny about coming to school with his daughters. But if you like, I'll ask him if he'd like me to tutor him a bit."

"Books are so wonderful. Everyone should get to have them."

They reached the Odinssons, and you could hear the baby crying from the walk. Thor came out onto the porch. "The baby won't eat."

"Have you gotten anything in him?" Violet asked, climbing the steps.

He shook his head. "He tries to nurse for a few minutes and then starts screaming." 

She nodded and left Ada with him, going into the bedroom to find a desperate looking Jane in bed with the screaming baby. "All right," Violet said, in her calmest teacher voice. "Why don't we try a couple other positions and see if one works for him."

It became obvious that her milk wasn't in, and the baby was so wound up and hungry he wouldn't cooperate with anything. The second problem needed dealing with first. Back in Philadelphia she could have hired a wet nurse—she'd had the help of one when Ada was first born—but here they'd need to round up a favor. Natasha and Amanda had been up all night, and she was loathe to bother either of them.

So she sent Thor up to the Lang's to see if Hope would come and bring her youngest. Forty five minutes later, Magni was enjoying his first full meal, Ada was running around outside with the Lang girls, and they convinced Jane and Thor to both go get some sleep.

"I don't mind at all," Hope said. "I've been doing this a decade, I could open a dairy farm. And hey, I've never nursed a boy before."

"A novel experience then," Violet laughed. "When Jane is awake we should have yours suck on her a bit. Helps the milk."

She nodded. "You look like you've had a night."

"I haven't slept," she admitted. "Two births and Pepper Stark is still laboring."

Hope winced. "How's Doc doing?"

"He's also tired. He's waiting at the Starks, hopefully he can get some sleep today. He didn't think Pepper would go anytime soon."

"I am very grateful for how quick my births are." She switched sides the baby was nursing from. "I can stay and look after these guys if you want to go help him. I'll make them some food and see what I can do about feeding arrangements if needs be."

"That would be great. And I'll ask Amanda and Nat if they're willing pitch in a bit with Magni as well."

"We all take care of each other," she said with a smile.

"That is my favorite thing about this town."

Violet walked back out to the Starks, and because the windows were open and sound carried, she could hear the sound of a baby crying. It could be one of multiple babies at this point, but she really hoped it was the one that lived in this house in particular.

She was not prepared for the scene in the house. There was a group in the hallway outside the door of the room Pepper had moved to that morning. They moved out of the way, and she could see Stark standing in front of the door, holding a crying newborn wrapped in a towel, and looking shell shocked. Violet's stomach dropped.

On the other side of the closed door, there was a scream unlike any Violet had heard in her life. Like she imagined people screamed under torture—or through the unmedicated amputations Amanda had nightmares about.

"What happened?" she asked Barnes, who was standing close enough to Stark he might have been concerned her was going to pass out.

"I don't know, he went in to see the baby and then they shoved him back out. I don't. . ." he shook his head. She came close enough she could see there was what looked like a bloody handprint on Stark's sleeve.

The screaming had stopped, though for good or ill she had no idea.

"Okay," she said quietly under her breath. Then, louder, "Okay. I'll go see how it's going."

The door opened as she reached it. Bruce was on the other side. His shirt and trousers had blood all over them, enough to startle her and to cause gasps behind her. Incongruously, he was smiling. "It's okay, she's okay."

"Really?" The voice was thin and shaky, but she was pretty sure that was Stark.

"Really, come on in." He stepped back to wave him in.

Stark rushed past her and into the room, still clutching the baby.

Violet waited for him to get by before stepping closer to Bruce. "What happened?"

He opened his mouth, and before he could answer, Amanda appeared at the other end of the hall, Edie in one arm, with a much louder, "What _happened_? I was gone five minutes, did you amputate something?"

Bruce leaned against the door, looking like someone who'd been awake two days straight. "Afterbirth came out in pieces and one didn't."

Violet wrinkled her nose. She knew just enough about child birth to know that was bad. "You had to get it out?"

He nodded. "Bleeding's slowed to normal, I got it in time." He looked over Violet's head at Amanda. "I'm glad you weren't here, Nat had to hold her down."

"That sounds awful. I think I'm going to go home and sleep for several days."

Bruce sighed and nodded. "I'll stay and keep an eye on her."

"Get some sleep soon, please." She looked at Violet. "Can you make sure he gets some sleep."

"I promise," Violet assured her with a little salute.

"Right," he said. "For now can you find me some coffee?"

"I'll brew some," she promised, heading for the kitchen.

The Starks' cook had some brewing already, so Violet was back pretty quickly. Which was good, because she could hear arguing in the hallway. It was the first time she'd ever heard Bruce raise his voice. "If I'd listened half an hour ago, she'd be dead right now, so I'll _wait_."

Hurrying, she found him facing off with a few of the others. "I have your coffee," she said, instinctively using the tone she used for Neil when he was approaching tantrum. 

He took it from her without a word, and chugged it despite it being so hot it was probably painful. Then he tossed the mug and the china shattered on the floor.

Natasha glanced at Violet, then back at Bruce. "We should get Amanda back," she said quietly.

"Let me talk to him," she replied, just as soft. She stepped closer. "Bruce. Will you come sit in the parlor with me? It's right next door and you should get off your feet."

He tensed, and blew out an angry breath through his nose. Natasha took a step back and Barton got in front of her. Rhodes, who was on the other side of her, put his hand on Violet's arm to try and pull her back. 

It seemed she was finally meeting the Other.

Well, he'd been afraid of it happening. And she'd been confident that whatever happened they'd handle it. Now was time to step up and prove it. She shook off Rhodes's arm and kept talking in her quiet, slightly singsong voice that worked so well on Neil. "Does your back hurt? Mine does, and I haven't been crouched at the end of a bed all morning. Come sit and I can rub your back a little. Doesn't that sound nice?"

His head jerked around and he looked down at her. Loomed over her, really. She hadn't understood it, when people told her, because he really wasn't an intimidating man—but there was a lot to be said about how a person held themselves. He was bigger than her, and stronger than her, and for once she could feel it.

Then his shoulders relaxed a little, and he nodded.

Smiling, she held her hand out to him and he took it, curling his fingers lightly around hers. She didn't look back at the others, just led him into the nearest parlor and settled on a chaise where she could rub his back in big soothing circles.

After a moment, his breathing slowed, and the tension seemed to leave him. He leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees and bending his head. When he glanced at her, she could see from his face he was himself again, but he quickly looked back at the floor. Or his bloody hands. "What did I do?" he asked hoarsely.

"You broke a mug and snapped at Natasha and Mr. Rhodes." She covered a hand with his. "This is from saving Pepper's life."

He looked back at her, surprised. "That's it?"

"I saw you were getting stressed out so I talked you into coming here and calming down."

He turned fully to face her. "You. . ." He shook his head and reached for her, wrapping his arms around her and pulling him to his chest.

She squeaked in surprise, but wrapped her arms around him too. "You okay now?"

"I am," he whispered. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." She enjoyed being held a moment longer, then straightened. "Do you think you can get some sleep in one of the guest rooms? I understand you want to be nearby for Pepper, but I have to think sleep deprivation is part of why you had an episode."

"I don't disagree." He looked down. "I really could use a change of clothes and possibly a bath first."

The parlor door opened and Stark came in, looking much less like death himself. "There you are."

Bruce stood up. "I didn't smash anything. Other than a mug."

Stark laughed. "You are welcome to smash everything in this house right now." He came forward in two strides and hugged Bruce, which seemed to surprise the hell out of him. There was manly back pounding.

"Just doing my job," Bruce replied.

"And I intend to pay you handsomely for it. What do you want? Name anything and I'll double it."

He turned back and looked at Violet. "You know what? I think I have everything I want."

She smiled at him, then looked at Stark. "He needs a guest room to sleep in, a tub to bathe in, and a fresh change of clothes."

"That I can get you. And I actually have something better than a bath."

*

Bruce knew Stark liked to make all manner of contraptions in his free time. He also knew the house had indoor plumbing from a gravity fed tank, and a kitchen boiler that heated water. But he did not expect to end up in a large tin box while water sprayed on him from multiple directions. It was very strange, but honestly a lot better that soaking in what would have been very disgusting bathwater. 

The water was lukewarm and felt nice; the hot water wasn't running, but the tank in the attic had been heated by the weather.

When he got back to the guest room Jarvis has shown him, wrapped in a dressing gown, he found Violet there with his change of clothes. She smiled when she saw him. "I should run home and feed my kids, but wanted to make sure you got settled in all right."

He nodded. "You should change your dress before you see Ada. I got blood on you."

She looked down at herself. "Oh, rats. And it's dried, too." She swiped at it in annoyance. "I'll stop at the house before picking them up."

"Soak it in baking soda and water," he said, sitting on the bed. He knew plenty about getting blood out of clothing.

"Will do." She leaned over and kissed his temple. "Do you need anything else before I go?"

He laid down, sleep tugging at him. "No. But. . . thank you."

"You're welcome. I hope you get a good rest."

"I'll come see you later," he said.

"I'll be waiting." He felt her kiss him once more before he drifted off.

Bruce slept so long it was getting dark when he woke up. He found the clothes where Violet had left them, and made his way downstairs. A thunderstorm had rolled in, breaking the heat, and the rain was coming down pretty good.

He went downstairs, and found the house quiet. Stark was in the parlor, asleep on the couch with the baby sleeping on his chest, and the room Pepper had been in was empty. Quietly he went back upstairs and found her back in her bedroom, propped up on pillows and reading a book. He knocked on the door frame. "How are you feeling?"

"Exhausted," she said. "But more comfortable than I've been in ages."

"How is the bleeding? Are you in any pain?"

"Sore? There's blood, but I've had monthlies that were worse. No cramps, no sharp pains. And I've kept some food down."

He nodded. "Bleeding gets worse, or if you feel feverish or sick in any way, you send someone to get me immediately. Have them try Mrs. Marsh's house first." She nodded, and then he added. "And sorry about the. . . I really had no other option."

She smiled. "It's all right. I'm assuming it was preferable to the alternative outcomes."

He chuckled a little. "Yeah. Make sure you get a good meal. I'll be back in the morning to check on you."

"Thank you, Dr. Banner."

He borrowed one of the Starks' horses and rode back to town in the rain—which was surprisingly refreshing. The air felt and smelled clean, a welcome change from the heat. He stopped first to check on Syn and see how she and her baby were doing. 

She was up an about, baby happily swaddled and laced into an Indian cradleboard, dinner on the stove. "You look well," he told her.

"So do you," she said, stopping her cooking long enough to hug him. "Did you get some rest?"

"I did. Natasha come by and tell you about my morning?"

"She did. I heard Violet got the Other Guy to calm down."

That made him smile and shake his head. "All I broke was a mug."

"I'm officially impressed."

He ducked his head. "I'm heading home, I just wanted to check on you."

"Thanks. Oh, Jane's having problems with her milk. I gave her some tips and me and a few of the others are pitching in. Just thought you should know."

He nodded. "I'll check in with her. I want to make sure she doesn't give him cow's milk. I assume some sort of wet-nurse rotation could be worked out if needs be."

"Already on it. I also told her to have Nat or Amanda trade babies with her so the stronger suck will help."

He checked on Jane and her baby, and then got detoured by someone else who needed completely non-baby-related medical care, which was a novelty this week. By the time he got to Violet's house it was dark. It was still raining, so he was pretty soaked.

He went in the back room and found her at the kitchen table, drinking tea and soaking her feet. She looked up and smiled widely when she saw him. "There you are."

"Hi," he said, returning the smile. "Neil and Ada asleep?"

She nodded. "Been a busy couple of days, they crashed out early."

"That it has." Bruce went to get himself some food—she had some bread and cheese and fruit put aside for him—and then sat across form her. "Everybody seems to be doing good, though."

"I'm glad. I saw Syn briefly. Her daughter is adorable."

He looked at her a long moment. "Thank you," he said quietly. "For. . .everything."

She smiled kindly. "It was my pleasure. I like helping you."

"No one died last night, and no one died during the measles outbreak, because you helped. You. . . fill in my gaps."

She eased her feet out of the water and started drying them off. "You need help. This town is growing and it's too much for one person."

He scooted his chair around so he could pull them into his lap, pressing his thumbs into her arches. "They're not the kind of gaps a second doctor would fill."

"I like to be helpful," she said, leaning back in her chair and stretching her toes.

"Would you perhaps be interested in doing that full time?"

Her brows went up. "I think Jane would kill me if I quit."

He chuckled a little, rubbing the top of her foot. "I'm not offering employment, Violet, I'm asking you to marry me. You can probably do that and teach at the same time."

Her eyes widened rather adorably. "Oh!" Then she broke into the brightest smile he'd ever seen. "I'd love to marry you."

He grinned back, feeling something settle in his chest. "Good."

"What changed your mind?"

"I learned yesterday that it's fairly easy to obtain a divorce in Kansas if you have cause. Your husband becoming a permanent lunatic would certainly be one. I was actually about to bring it up when Thor came running over yesterday."

She smiled and shifted to lean in and kiss him. "I love you. When would you like to get married?"

"Honestly? As soon as possible."

"We should go talk to the preacher in the morning, then."

"I love you." Bruce pulled her all the way into his lap. "The Other has never backed down for anyone. Not like that." 

"He was really quite reasonable. Held my hand and everything."

"I think all parts of me love you. Trust you. The light and the dark."

"I think that's the sweetest thing I've ever heard." She kissed him again. "We fit very well."

He tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "Can I stay here tonight?"

"I'd like that very much. The kids have been asking for you."

He watched her a moment. "Do you want to have more?"

"I would like more babies," she said, sounding a little hesitant, as if she was unsure what his response would be.

"Me too," he replied. "Very much."

That earned him another brilliant smile. "Good."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a manual placenta removal when I had my daughter. I had an epidural, but I've heard it's more painful than the birth itself.


	11. The Second Time Around

_Three years later_

"That's all our dining chairs, Vi."

She sighed, counting seats, and counting the names on her list again. When the railroad had finally come to town—because Stark built it—a wave of new town residents had come with it. Immigrant homesteaders, to be specific, and while they'd had a sense of how many families were coming, no one had counted how many _children_ that meant.

Tomorrow was the first day of school, and they didn't have enough seats. Since she and Bruce were the nearest house, he'd helpfully carted over their chairs, but it wasn't enough.

"You should have raided the saloon," Jane commented. She'd come over to help get set up, as she and Violet shared teaching duties these days. Not so much this year, though, as Jane was about to have her second child. "Thor is very protective of our fancy chairs, but I could ask him to knock together a couple of benches.

Violet braced a hand on her hip. "Which do you think would be faster? Running to the saloon or him building benches?"

“By now the saloon is packed," Bruce said. "Syn isn't going to have chairs to give, and the crowd this time of night's kind of rough."

"Benches it is," Jane said.

"Mama!" Ada came stomping down the stairs from the rooms above, now used mostly for storage but where they'd soon have a second classroom, holding her baby brother out in front of her. "He pooped again." 

Ada could watch him, but she didn't do diapers.

Violet sighed and reached for him, but Bruce beat her to it. "I'll get him. You have a logistics problem to work out."

"Thank you, sweetheart," Violet called as he headed for the door.

She heard the hoofbeats a moment after Bruce left, and she went out on the porch to see who it was. Bruce was just starting across the grass to their house with the baby on his shoulder, but he'd stopped to look. Marshall Rogers was coming up the street at a gallop.

"Who's dead?" Bruce called as he got closer. Violet started to cross the street to take the baby from him.

"I'd walk for a corpse," Rogers called back. He reined his horse in front of them. "There was an accident out at the homesteaders camp."

"I'll get my bag and hitch the wagon and meet you out there," Bruce replied with a sigh.

"If you're not back by the time I've finished organizing, I'll come out to check on you," Violet told him.

"Thank you," he said, kissing her temple before dashing off.

Twenty minutes or so later, Rogers was back again. Violet went out onto the steps as he rode up to them. "Sorry, ma'am. Doc send me back to get more morphine. He said it was in his office cabinet and you'd know which one it was."

"I do. I'll bring it." She went back into the house and grabbed two more bottles of morphine, wrapping them in cloth and tucking them in a sack for Rogers to ride with them without breaking them. She handed them over. "It's that bad?"

He sighed and nodded. "Yeah." He looked in the direction of the schoolhouse, where Jane had come into the doorway with Ada peeking out behind her, and lifted a hand to wave. "Will you have her tell her husband we expect to need a casket in the morning?"

"I'll pass that on," she told him. "Just one?"

Rogers nodded. That was a lot of morphine for one person, considering Bruce carried some in bag as well. "Sometimes the War is very far in the past," Rogers said after a moment. "Sometimes it's not. I trust a battlefield surgeon to know who he can't save."

Probably meant he'd be back here quick. "Tell him I'll have supper for him when he's home."

Violet fed the children and kept a plate warm for Bruce. They read stories and were tucked into bed, though she knew it would be hours before Neil actually went to sleep. He at least would stay in his room and entertain himself these days. 

Antoine still slept in the cradle in their bedroom, but they were going to have to decide where to put him soon. Ada didn't want an infant in her room, and Neil would keep him awake. But Violet didn't really want to give up her small sewing room. Bruce's office had already eaten the library downstairs. He'd been muttering about building on an addition. Maybe it was time.

He looked exhausted when he finally made it home.

She met him with his supper and a cup of tea, sitting him at the kitchen table and sitting in silence for a little while, working on her mending as he ate. When he'd had time to put food in his belly she asked quietly, "Do you want to talk about it?"

"It was a wagon accident. Broken upper leg, both arms, collarbone, pelvis, jaw. Maybe skull, but he was pretty lucid. Nothing immediately fatal, but. . ." He gestured, and sighed. "All I could do was fill him with morphine."

"I'm sorry, Bruce." She stabbed her needle into her work and reached over to touch his hand. "You can't save everyone."

"I know. I guess I just. . . these people come out here with such hope. This guy's got a wife and and kids. The oldest boy is maybe 14 and he asked me while I was packing up if I knew anyone who was hiring, because he had mouths to feed now."

There'd been a boy that age on her list of incoming students. She supposed she wouldn't be seeing him much, now. "What did you tell him?"

"I told him not to worry about the cost of my services or anything for the funeral—I'll work it out with Thor and the preacher—and to tell Mrs. Hill at the General Store to put whatever they needed on my tab. He refused the latter, so I told him Stark was always hiring, and I insisted someone would bring them supper tomorrow because putting together a meal rotation is something the town does whenever somebody dies."

"Jane already said she'd bring something by tomorrow," Violet told him, getting a little smile. Food for a death or birth or illness was standard procedure around here. They took care of each other.

"I don't expect the little ones will be at school tomorrow, but I assume sometime this week you'll see them."

She nodded. "I'll go introduce myself later in the week. Talk to the oldest about a part time schedule."

He nodded. "The last name's Parker."

Tying off her last stitch, she stood and kissed his temple. "I'm going to get ready for bed. Join me?"

"I just need to wash up," he said, standing.

"All right. Don't be long, or I'll come find you," she teased.

He smiled back. "In that I have every faith."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for joining us on this story and we hope you enjoyed it!
> 
> Somehow we talked ourselves into writing another sequel with some of the next gen people (from our Tales from the Tower series), set in Triskelion in 1883. The historical are research heavy and slow to write, so it will be a while before we finish it. But it should show up eventually.


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